


The Darker the Weather, The Better The Man

by GR1EVER



Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:54:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 55,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26253709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GR1EVER/pseuds/GR1EVER
Summary: The Second Sorceress War only lies a few months back and people start to readjust to their lives.Some manage, while others have lost everything and more.Squall has lost his memory. After aimlessly searching for answers, he winds up in the new-build refugee town of Rachdale on the Centra continent.The very town were Seifer has started to build his new life, wanting to leave the war and his past behind.
Relationships: Seifer Almasy/Squall Leonhart
Comments: 6
Kudos: 31





	1. Amiss

* * *

All is amiss. Love is dying, faith's defying, heart's denying. - Richard Barnfield

* * *

**Balamb Town, early morning**

  
The clock on the wall ticked time away relentlessly. A constant reminder of what had been, how crucial every second had been just a few months ago, unforgiving if not seized.  
Teeth bore down chewing the lower lip, a habit new and yet much too indulged when the brooding thoughts came.  
A huff followed the realization, followed by a shift in his position on the bed.  
Not having moved much, one arm behind his head, sprawled out on the bed, the fingers of his free hand distractedly thumbing a button on his vest, Zell slowly pulled back from the dark thoughts clouding his mind.  
He rolled over to his side, eyes catching the silver gleam on the opposite wall. Griever's symbol twinkled in the rising sunlight of the day, marking the gunblade case that leaned between his wardrobe and desk.   
His brows furrowed at the sight, eyes closing a brief moment, then he forced himself to sit up, shaking his head. If Selphie would see him like this, she'd next suggest he should dress in black leather and dye his hair brown.   
Fully aware of how uncharacteristically he acted once he was alone, he couldn't help but frown. Usually he was much more like Selphie; cheery and upbeat, if a little short-tempered. Hyne, he'd even teased the brunet more often than not about his glowering stares and generally bad mood at most times. And now he sat here doing just that.  
Another huff, then Zell pushed himself off the bed, rolling too his feet and stretching.   
He'd been awake well before sunrise, caught up in his thoughts and memories, trying to come up with something, anything to do about the current situation. He had enough of that.

  
Needing some fresh air and to move his stiff muscles, he picked up the pair of red and black sneakers waiting for him neatly set up beside his bed. Despite his often short-fused temper that lead people to think him chaotic, he liked things tidy and in place. It mirrored in his room too which was always clean and didn't hold any scattered items whatsoever, much to his comrades' surprise when he first allowed them upstairs, during the Galbadian occupation of Balamb.  
Tying his shoes, he glanced up at the big picture hanging on the wall, smiling fondly at the sight of the weathered man staring down at him with a firm expression. Yet the lines around the mans' mouth and eyes betrayed the stern look, as Zell full well knew.  
His grandfather had been an honored soldier in the First Sorceress War, ever since being nothing but an idol to look up to for the blond.  
Ruffling his hair under the forever silent gaze, he straightened his posture and saluted the old man, who long since had passed away. Still, Zell remembered fondly the times he sat on the man's knee when he was still a small kid, listening to the stories and adventures his grandfather never seized to tire of. Neither did Zell.  
"I'm off now, Gramps." he muttered, avoiding to lay another look on the gunblade case when he passed it, heading downstairs.  
He could hear his mother bustling in the kitchen, seemingly awake by now. A fond smile played around his lips as he decended further, smelling breakfast, coffee, and the faint smell of dish soap.  
Even though Ma Dincht was not his biological mother, and despite the time he spent in the orphanage, Zell would never stop seeing her as his mother. He loved the woman just as such, and he was indefinitely thankful for her to have taken him in.   
"Morning Ma!" he greeted when he arrived at the small space of the kitchen, glancing around the corner to see the brunette woman bustling about, only stopping when she heard Zell's greeting to turn around and wipe her hands on her apron.

  
A warm smile played the woman's lips, lines forming on her cheeks and around her eyes, giving her an even warmer, motherly appeal.  
"Good morning Zell." she greeted him back, regarding her son and his state of being all dressed up this early in the morning. She knew something was laying heavy over her son's mind ever since he returned back home after the war, not missing the oftentimes occupied thoughts and the uncommon brooding expression on her son's face.  
Yet she knew not to press him, however uncharacteristic his behaviourisms turned out sometimes. After all, she remembered her father and how he had been after the war he returned from. Some took harder to what they expierienced than others, but war changed people, and she knew better than to force some form of expected behaviour on Zell when he had just returned and needed time to readjust.  
And as she always had, when the blond hot-head needed a shoulder to cry on, someone to confide in or simply a hug from his mother, she would be there and give him whatever he needed of her.  
"Breakfast takes a while, I did not expect you to be up this early." Ma Dincht followed up her greeting words, cocking her head, already expecting the response she was about to get.  
"Out for a run anyways, Ma. Be a while."  
She nodded, having expected nothing else since Zell had been doing just that for what must have been weeks.  
He always had had a very strict training regime given his combat style, but lately he seemed even more obsessed with it, surely to get out of his head and occupy himself otherwise.  
As long as he kept it to healthy amounts and did not forget to dig in appropiately when he ate, she did not mind. Her father hadn't been much different after the war, which in hindsight must have had no small impact on Zell and his choice of weapons and fighting style.  
Sometimes she worried for him, being one of the fighters in the front lines of any battle, lest he used magic or one of the beasts he was able to summon, being a SeeD.  
But if he had proven anything to her, then that he could handle himself and that his friends looked out for him.   
"I'll store you something in the fridge for later then." 

  
Zell smiled warmly at his mother, nodding in response. A warmth washed over him as he regarded the older woman who never failed to make this place a home, a refuge, and who never had done anything short of loving him. Only after he got to know the others and their shared past, he realized just how lucky he was to even have this. The others had not been so fortunate.  
"Love you, Ma." he said, stepping up and leaning down to place a kiss on the woman's cheek.  
She chuckled at the unexpected outburst of warm emotions that had long since simmered down, as was to be expected from a young man his age. Still, she was happy about the gesture and grabbed the blond's shoulders, squeezing them softly. "I love you too, Zell. Take care."  
She then swatted him with her dishtowel, making him yelp and laugh at the same time as he turned around and left the house.

  
Outside, Zell started stretching properly, not wanting to injure himself during his training when it could be avoided by simply warming up some beforehand.  
The morning air was fresh and cool, Balamb still mostly asleep and yet too drowsy to come to live, all in all a welcome sight to him. Somewhere in the distance he could hear a train rattling, signalling that either one would arrive at Balamb Station soon enough, or that one had departed a moment ago.  
Zell stretched his legs, dipping down to reach for his toes with his fingers, enjoying the strain of his muscles after a morning spent much too idle.  
He then jolted his fists in front of him, punching them through the air a couple of times, light on his feet , easing his body into moving, before he took off in a jog along the cobblestone street.  
His usual round took him to the gates of Balamb, past the mechanic's shop who was just opening up, shouting a greeting towards the blond who smiled and just lifted a hand in return, not wanting to jumble his breathing pattern.  
Then he was outside of the city barriers, heading towards the small wood on the left.  
As soon as the lush canopy of greens surrounded him, he could feel the air cooling down yet a bit more. It was still early and the sun had barely crawled over the Gaulg mountainside in the north of the island to grace the Alcaud plains with more warmth, leaving a slight of mist above the forestground, as well as dewdrops on the grass and greens, which graced his calves when he jogged past.  
Easing into a sprint, Zell headed further north along a beaten path he used every morning. Taking deep breaths of cool air into his lungs while leaning into his sprint, he enjoyed the moment, breaching a clearing just a few moments later and slowing down again to come to a slow halt.

Allowing himself only a few seconds of a break to not let his body and muscles cool down again, he then immediately launched at a big, old tree riddled with broken bark, standing in the middle of the clearing. For as long as he could remember, this tree had been his sparring partner after his grandfather passed away. Before that, the old man had eased him into fist-fighting techniques, wanting the young boy to be able to defend himself even if he had no weapon but his body at hand.  
And Zell loved it.  
The thrill of being so fully in control of his body and every movement kicked in each time he began his battering of the tree, which his gramps had also used to spar before the war.  
Of course it was not the same as sparring with another person, which Zell did too when he was at Garden, but for the sake of his nerves and peace of mind, he needed these trips into the woods.  
Also, it held an air of tradition and comfort.  
Hit after hit smashed into the trunk, followed by kicks and combinations of both, the blond loosing himself into the exhilerating and freeing excersise, a sheen of sweat building up and covering his skin despite the cool air surrounding him.  
He forgot time and space, ignoring the slowly building soreness of his hands, knees and feet, while unrelentlessly following his training plan.  
He went through his movements at least three times, making sure to be precise and quick, as well as building appropriate force. Be as it may, he was taught to execute his every movement with precision, even if a lot of people thought he just threw mindless punches at his opponents.  
Hyne, some instructors as well as students even thought he never followed any tactic when he fought. It would have rubbed him the wrong way, if such assumptions didn't help to give him more of an edge - underestimating him was the last mistake an opponent would make.

  
A final smashing kick landed to the tree trunk, making it's branches quiver and showering him in a final spray of dew and some leaves, then Zell came to a halt, breathing heavily.  
He wiped the sweat from his brows with the back of his arm, taking in the welcome soreness of his muscles, a clear sign that he had challenged his body thoroughly.  
Just when he turned to make his way back, a buzz caught his attention and his hand flew to his pockets immediately, fishing out his cellphone.  
"Yo!" he said, realizing too late that he'd been so hurried to answer the call that he forgot to pay attention to who was calling in the first place.

  
"Good morning to you, too." replied a calm voice dryly.  
"Hey, Irv." Zell replied guiltily, smiling at the familiar voice. Then he startled. "Any news?!"  
There was a pause on the other end of the line, followed by a sigh.  
"No, nothing. Quistie is still on it though, you know her." Irvine replied, his voice first stern and low, then taking up a more cheerful tone to the end, wanting to lighten the mood.  
"....okay." Zell replied, slowly strolling towards the tree again, leaning one hand against it, sounding disappointed. He pressed his lips together, frowning, while his fingers mindlessly followed the trails of the bark underneath.  
"I'm calling to hear if you're still up for tonight? Some 'family time' and hot dogs?"  
It was hard not to grin when Irvine knew exactly how to lure him in to Garden. Not that that was necessary, he already had told Selphie he'd be there, and he never missed out seeing his friends for some time off any duties.  
"Yeah, absolutely." he assented, taking the brief pause to lean forward and his forhead against his hand on the trunk.   
"Great! Also, I wanted to remind you to bring your gramp's rifle." Irvine chirped, none short of giddy. Zell couldn't help but grin again, even more so than before.  
Ever since they had been in his room at Ma Dincht's place during the occupation, Irvine always had wanted to study one of Zell's grandfather's rifles to make use of what he found for improving his own weapons. According to the sharpshooter, one particular rifle had some most interesting add ons he would like to implement on Exeter.  
"'Course, will do. So long as you don't take it apart breakin' it in the process." the warning in his voice was soft, though earnest.   
Zell treasured the rifles of his grandfather, having them propped under the big picture of the old man in his room.  
Irvine made a noise that could be a huff or a grunt, sounding insulted. "You should think better of me, Zell." he chided the other, if amicably.  
The blond hummed acquiescing, pushing himself from the relaxed position he was resting at, straightening his back.   
"Ight Irv, need to get back to trainin'. I'll be seein' y'all tonight!" he said, rolling his shoulders. By now his body had cooled down far too much, but it couldn't be helped. He'd take an extra round down to the docks to make up for it.  
"Don't let me keep ya." Irvine said. "Later then!"

  
Putting the cell back into his pocked, Zell huffed.   
Still no news.   
His jaw set and his mind along with it, he decidedly focussed on finishing his morning training without further dwelling on what could not be changed.  
Again he eased into a jog, making his way through the thick flora surrounding him, noticing the already increased temperature. It was still mild, given that it was spring, but he could tell that the day would turn out to be reasonably warm.   
Maybe they'd be lucky and could spend the evening outside on the garden's yard. His lips curled up when he imagined Selphie's expression, sure she'd force the guitar on him again to play a little. Zell wouldn't mind. He was out of practise, but things like that he'd never unlearn or forget.  
Soon Balamb town came back into sight and he spurred on, already in a much better mood than he had been when he passed the arch that implied the town's limits earlier.  
His sneakers causing his jog to echo from the street and the surrounding buildings, he passed his home and headed left, around the Balamb Hotel building. The owner stood in front of the sign, much as he did at least once a day, checking for signs of rust and abrasions due to the salty air of the sea.  
Zell had helped the man more than once to get that heavy thing down and bring it to the mechanic's, lending a hand in getting the sign polished back up. In a small town like Balamb, people depended on one another, helping out if and where they could. His mother looked after some of the kids of the town on a regular basis, especially when Zell was not home. She had always been like this and sometimes, the blond mused, Ma Dincht might as well had opened up an orphenage of her own, had Garden not made a point to take in all of the stray kids they could get their hands on.  
Zell made a turn and reached the small Balamb harbor, only stopping when the berth forced him too, right where it dropped to the sea.  
The water was mumbling, waves crashing a bit further out, adding a soft rush to the noise of the town, accompanied by the occasional scream of a seagull.  
A couple of people had gathered in the area, some small booths lining the far right side selling fresh vegetables, fruit and fish, some kids playing ball on the opposite side.  
Zell took it all in, breathing heavily from his training, while absentmindedly unfastening Ehrgeiz from his hands. He liked leaving the gloves off for a while after training, giving the sweating and that he'd have to take a shower in a bit anyway.  
It was a nice day, and the feeling of belonging washed over him, much like the warm feeling of love towards his adoptive mother had earlier this morning.  
Still, there was something amiss and he would start touching the edges of that loss sooner rather than later, as he full well knew.

  
Sighing, he turned and sauntered back the way he came, wanting to keep occupied for at least a moment longer. His fingers kneaded the dragon skin leather of his gloves while he walked, turning a corner and soon after reaching the door to his home.  
"I'm back!" he announced himself, stuffing the gloves in a back poket where they poked out.   
"Welcome back, Zell." his mother greeted from the kitchen. Sometimes he wondered if she ever left it.   
Grinning at the thought, he poked his head inside. "I'ma take a shower and eat after." He said, knocking on the door frame as a sign that he'd be taking off upstairs. Then he halted, turning around again.  
"I promised Irvine to lend him one of gramp's rifles. Guy's a gunner, wanted a look to improve his weapons." he started, a brief guilt forming in the back of his head for not having asked his mother about it earlier. Being her son or not, he was still adopted, and those weapons belonged to family. To blood.  
Ma Dincht turned around to face him, lifting an eyebrow at the guilty frown her son displayed. "Zell, that's no problem at all. Those things just catch dust up there anyway." she smiled.   
At that, Zell flurried up as if she insulted him greatly. "Ma, I polish 'em at least once a month, they don't catch any dust!" he protested, earning a laugh from the woman.  
"I'm pulling your leg, Zell. Still, just make sure it gets back here, okay?"  
Zell nodded sternly, then smiled a thanks to his mother, before he turned to go and take a shower.

**Balamb Garden, evening of the same day.**

Weighing the beautiful handiwork in his hands with a look of admiration, Irvine grinned. He had spent the last half hour inspecting the barrel, the engravings and the handle of the old yet still very state-of-the-art weapon thorougly, humming in awe every now and then.  
Zell had kept to his word and had brought the lightweight rifle when he joined them, carefully placing it into the sharpshooters hands with a look that told the brunet he better not mess with it.  
They were sitting in the yard on a small wall that encircled some patches of green with trees and flowers, enjoying the quiet and the last beams of the sun that had warmed the day just as the fistfighter had suspected.  
"It's gorgeous." Irvine hummed finally, breaking the silence that had settled between the two men comfortably, looking up to nod at the blond. "Thanks, Zell. I'll take good care of her."  
The other nodded, glancing down at the weapon. He never really understood the act of calling a weapon a she or her, but given the flirtatious nature of the sharpshooter it came to no surprise. As long as he didn't take these kinds of ladies to bed when he was with Selphie; that could lead to some unwanted ugly fights, Zell was sure.  
Smirking at the thought, but letting it go just as quickly when he imagined such a scenery in detail, he shook his head.  
"Just return it in one piece." He reminded the brunet, knowing he could count on the best treatment of the rifle by the gunner.  
Irvine snorted softly at that, not warranting the reminder with an answer.  
He carefully placed the rifle next to him, leaning it agains the small wall, before leaning back and settling into the grass behind him, hands under his head. His gaze followed the clouds slowly passing above and he enjoyed the soft breeze that brushed over his face every now and then, furthering the peaceful moment. 

  
After the war, he hadn't been sure what to do next.  
There were so many loose ends, so many options laid out before them, that he had been scared to end up alone at G-Garden again after all.  
It would have made sense to go back, have one of them present there and making sure that everything went back to normal, have an eye on the things unfolding. And he came from there, had grown up at G-Garden and knew his ways around the facility and staff.   
The sharpshooter closed his eyes, remembering how tense he had felt in those days that followed the war after their return to Garden, knowing full well that they wouldn't be able to spend every evening like they did at the reunion party. Naturally, it was brought up at some point.  
Quistis had taken to become Cid Kramer's second hand, undoubtedly being eyed as the next garden headmistress once the man decided to step down. As such, she was in her element when she helped setting Garden back up again in Balamb, arranging for the rebuild of the other Gardens, too.  
Irvine had been unsure if the blonde would accept it if he declined the offer to become commander of Galbadia Garden, and he had been reluctant to voice any opinion on the matter. But Quistis seemed to notice his unease, and they had a thorough, private talk about his options. So in the end, he'd stayed in Balamb, testing the waters of becoming an instructor instead.  
Even that seemed weird to him. The others never really seemed to notice it, but Irvine was the most self-conscious of the group of friends, never sure if he was able to live up to the expectations presented to him. Failing his assassination on Edea back then only helped to feed the feeling of not being good enough, but he had learned to work around it, thanks to his friends and comrades.  
He no longer felt out of place amongst them, considered them family and knew as much as he counted on them, they counted on him. Sometimes that knowledge was additional pressure to his meager ego, but he was determined to work through it. He wanted the others to be able to rely on him.

  
"Brooding doesn't suit the both of you." a soft voice said, pulling him back from his train of thoughts. Irvine looked up, smiling fondly as he saw the blonde woman stepping towards the both of them. He glanced at Zell, who had quickly straightened his slumped over, thoughtful pose and frowned just the barest moment.  
Sighing, he sat up, giving his hat a flick and grinning up at Quistis. "Yeah, that's up to another brunet, I know." he replied, a soft underlying tone in his voice that made Zell look at him.  
They all fell quiet a moment, before a cheery voice called out to them, making them turn.  
Selphie hurried down the stairs from the Garden main building, carrying a bunch of boxes undoubtedly filled with their dinner, as well as a guitar case slung around her shoulder.  
He saw Zell grin, as if he had expected that to happen.  
If he was being honest, so had the brunet.  
The quirky girl hopped down the last stairs and joined them, beaming at each of them in turn.  
"I brought munchies!" she exclaimed, letting Quistis take the boxes from her lest she let them fall with all her giddy acting.   
They exchanged pleasantries while setting everything out, Selphie pulling a large quilt from under her arm so they could sit on it.  
While everything was placed and they sat around the boxes, Zell zoning in on one containing a large portion of hot dogs, they talked about their days and what had kept them occupied.   
None of them mentioned the obvious, and Irvine felt bad for having brought it up earlier.  
Not wanting to dampen the mood again, he joined their leasure chatting, indulging in the food until all of them were satisfied.  
Patting his stomach he leaned back with a content sigh, watching his friends with a warm shimmer in his eyes. 

  
Quistis glanced over at a patch not far from them for the uptenth time, frowning at the sight of brown and wilted vegetables. One of the students had implored her to be allowed to start growing their own greens and fruits, seemingly as a hobby, but given the pragmatic nature of the blonde, her thoughts surely had been that Garden would have been able to sustain itself better come another war. Seeing the patch untended to like this, every chance of growing something ruined obviously, seemed to strike a nerve.  
Irvine chuckled lowly to himself, only able to imagine the sorts of sanctioning that was forming inside the woman's mind, moreso each time she glanced over.   
Both of them were pulled from their observations of a completely different kind when Selphie chirped up. "Come on, Zell! Do iiiiit!" she was just exclaiming, nudging the blond with the guitar case.  
By the looks of it, Zell was only acting indifferent, having his arms crossed over his chest as if determined not to sink as low as playing a guitar, while a smirk pulled at the corner of his lips allthesame.  
And surely, it only took Selphie a couple more nudges and the promise of more hot dogs in the future to have the fistfighter sigh overly dramatic, taking the case from the girl.  
"Okay, okay, fine." he harrumphed, but not being able to contain a grin any longer. "Don't cha end up blaming me for not playin' good tho!" he said while opening the clasps of the case.  
Inside, a beautiful accoustic guitar rested, all dark wood and silver strings.   
Irvine smiled as he watched the blond taking the instrument out of it's case carefully, placing it in his lap. It was always like this, the bantering and Zell refusing, but in the end he always played the guitar. It had become a sort of unspoken ritual for the friends.  
He watched the man as he cocked his head, strumming a chord against the strings, testing for any mismatch in their tuning. After adjusting the strings a little here and there, followed by more soft pullings causing the instrument to ring tunes into the yard, he hunched over it and focused.  
It was always kind of weird seeing Zell in this almost mellow state of mind that differed so much from his hotheaded nature he usually displayed. Still, Irvine knew that both wasn't mutually exclusive and when the man started playing, he leaned further back, closing his eyes.  
He could feel Selphie next to him scooting closer, leaning on his side and placing her head on his shoulder, causing him to smile. Shifting his weight a little so he could wrap one arm around the girl, he pulled her a little closer while the soft tune of the guitar waved through the night air that started to bring a soft chill with it.  
He recognized the relaxing melody Zell had slowly but surely perfected, each time he was asked to play the instrument. If he recalled it correctly, he had named the tune "breezy", because he felt it suited his home, Balamb town, and Balamb in and on itself, with it's proximity to the sea and the breezes carried over the smallest continent of their world.  
Even if not very inventive in terms of naming, he had to admit that the tune was beautiful und he could listen to it for hours on end. One of those days he had to ask Selphie to have her record it.  
The evening was almost perfect.  
And still they all felt deep inside that something was amiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After my previous fics which are more of a haphazard collection of short stories loosely tied together, I wanted to bring an old idea I had in mind to life written out properly.  
> So here it is!  
> I hope you like it and would be happy to hear your opinion :)


	2. Rachdale

* * *

Around me were the echoing dunes, beyond me  
The cold and sparkling silver of the sea --  
We two will pass through death and ages lengthen  
Before you hear that sound again with me.  
― Sarah Teasdale

* * *

**Deling City, the same evening**

  
Traffic blared through the windows of the officeroom, uncaring for the hour of the day. Most staff had already retired to sleep, yet Biggs still slouched over several papers in front of him, laptopscreen almost blinding since he had been too occupied - and too lazy - to get up and turn on the lights. With a groan he scratched his temple, then turned to continue to massage his brow were a slow pounding headache had set in hours ago.  
Hyne, he must have been sitting in this exact same position for the most of the day, filing through reports and notes. Grunting, he stretched in his uncomfortable chair, looking over to the windows, behind which the glistening lights of Deling City promised a lot more entertainment than what he had been damned to do here.  
He got up, joints popping, and frowned.  
Wedge would never have the balls to say it, but the situation he found himself in now was, at least partly, his own fault. That's what you got for blindly following orders.  
Then again, it was what had been hammered inside his head over and over again back when he was still green behind the ears, a cadet of the purely military based fraction of G-Garden which did not focus on SeeDs or Guardian Forces rather than technology and the force of weapons.   
Reminiscing those easier times, he slowly made his way to the window, staring outside, before his gaze caught his own reflection. An elderly man staring back at him, sporting a huge scar that ran over the entirety of his left face, rendering him half-blind. It made for good bar-stories, but made him unfit for combat, all accusations of war crime involvement aside. It was probably for the best.  
Closing his good eye, he stood straight, hands behind his back, as if awaiting someone to tell him to be at ease.  
He had never been at ease after the war.  
Sure, many of his comrades had a lot more problems with what happened, quite a few suffering severe forms of PTSD which mostly had not affected him, luckily.  
But still there was the everlasting, sinking feeling of utter failure grinding on his mind ever since. It had only been the current political state of the world that had allowed him to wander free at all.  
One would expect the world to be at peace after what had happened, but the death of Deling and the Sorceress alike had left a vacuum of power in Galbadia inviting all sorts of trouble to come to their doorstep. Timber resistance groups had seized their chance to rally against the remainder of the Galbadian Army, they had to deal with numerous deserters-gone-mercinaries, and in many places, rumours of an impending civil war had flared up.  
And all he could do was sit here, file papers and do the good General's daughter's bidding.  
To top it all off, he was tasked with finding this insufferable brat that not only made him and Wedge look like absolute idiots all during the war, but also was responsible for his scar.  
Grumbling low indecencies at the thought he turned away from the window, shooting his desk an angry look as if it was responsible for his predicament.  
Just in that moment his phone rang, and he scowled.  
Glancing at the clock on the wall, the corners of his mouth pulled even lower as they already did. At that ungodly hour, there was only one person who could be calling.

Straightening his posture, not wanting to appear slacking in the slightest even when on his own, he reached for the phone and answered the call.  
"Biggs."  
"Any news?" came the question without any preamble.  
If he had known that there would be a day when a girl of barely 18 years would be disrespecting him like that by not even sparing him a greeting, he would have laughed until his ass fell off.  
Dragging the silence longer than was necessary, knowing it would piss her off, he finally hummed negative.  
"Still nothing." he added, for the sake of his head. Having that girl harp at him wouldn't help the ache behind his good eye.  
There was a pause and he could almost see her furious gaze as she walked up and down the room she was in.  
"...it can't be so difficult to find someone with a hyne-bedamned scar in the middle of his face!" she finally hissed.  
"Miss Heartilly, I can't make reports or witnesses appear out of thin air like your comrades can summon GFs. I am doing what I can." surprised by the calmness of his voice he grinned, proud of himself. Too bad no one was there to witness his restraint and composure, it was uncommon enough. Also that comparison was rather witty, he had to give it to himself.  
"I know full-well what your capacities are lacking. If I want to be lectured, I'll ask for it, _Private_ Biggs." Summoning authority she must have seen her father assume, the girl fell nothing short of insulting him, reminding him of his rank that had been reduced to the bare mininum, making his just puffed up ego deflate that instance.  
To think that this bitch didn't even want anything to do with the Galbadian Military, let alone politics a couple of months ago. She'd even been joining a resistance group just to spite her father!  
Fighting the urge to slam down the phone and end this circus, Biggs set his jaw, nostrils flairing, as he grunted an obedient "Yes, Miss Heartilly."   
Nothing good could come from him defying her, now that she was Daddy's favorite again.  
Again a pause, silence fell, and she seemed to be lost in thought. Just when he wanted to ask if that was all, he could hear her stirr on the other end of the line again.  
"Keep looking."   
Then the call ended.

Finally releasing the exasperated, agitated growl that had caught in his throat, Biggs belatedly and, due to the lack of an audience, rather unspectacularily slammed down the phone, folding his arms in front of his chest.  
 _Keep looking._ What else was he supposed to do?  
If not for his undying love for his country and his loyalty towards his home, he would long have thought about joining the resistance or would have become a mercenary. Just imagining it made his stomach rile. He could never do such a thing, part of the reason why he got dragged so deeply into this whole Sorceress War mess.  
A beeping noise from the door made him look up as Wedge made his way in, bags in his arms. The younger man balanced their dinner, kicking the door shut behind him, causing another throb behind Biggs' brow to surge through his head.  
Grimacing, he glared at the other, smaller man, as usual blaming him for everything, if only to distract himself from his own faults.  
"What took you so damn long, Wedge?" he growled, sizing up the man who unceremoniously dropped the bags on a coffee table on the other side of the office room.  
"Traffic, Sir." came the quick response, followed by a salute.  
Biggs snorted at the gesture. Ever since being degraded to Private, just like Wedge, there had been no need for the younger man to Sir him, or salute him, for that matter.  
Still, it stroked the older man's ego, easing a bit of his frown as he joined the other to get some long overdue food into his body.  
"The girl has been pestering, growing impatient." he murmured, rummaging through the bags for his order.

Wedge hummed, seemingly having expected as much.  
The past weeks, since both of them had been assigned with their task, it had been no different. Some days, she would even call multiple times.  
The chance to find one single person, especially with all the chaos that had ensued since the war, gave Wedge no hope of them finalizing their search anytime soon. Especially not from the confinements of the office.   
Knowing it would piss his former superior off, he knew better than to mention his thoughts. Also, there wasn't much they could do other than this job, being degraded like they had been. Not only that, but their files excluded them expressidly from any field missions.  
Part of the younger man was glad about the current situation, which he also would never disclose to the other. Reflecting on the happenings of the past year, he had come to terms with the fact that he had been, quite frankly, an idiot. Unlike a lot of his comrades back then, Wedge had not really questioned what happened around them or what the political significance might be - he had simply followed instructions, mostly given by Biggs. Having looked up to the man for the most part of his life hadn't helped to keep a clear head either. He was like a father figure to the younger man, despite his shortcomings in the temperament department.  
There was a fondness he felt for the man, moreso since the other had been rendered half blind due to the scarring of his face. He knew full well that Biggs was a man that belonged to the battle field, he had to be out, to actually _do_ things instead of idling behind a desk.  
Knowing this, he felt sad and mistreated on the other's behalf.   
Only the certainity that Biggs would long since have gotten himself killed if he would still be allowed on missions eased the younger man's mind, strengthening his own resolve to be as good a right hand to the other as he'd always been, taking some of the burden from him.

"Hyne-bedamned, Wedge, I ordered PASTA not a PASTRY!!" the older man yelled in just that moment, hauling a tinfoiled dish right in his face from across the coffee table. It impacted with a slapping sound.  
Reacting quickly enough, Wedge caught the dish before it could slide from his face to the floor. Eyeing what he held in his hand, he frowned, then shrugged slightly.   
"Sorry, Sir! The vendor's Winhill accent is so thick, he must've misunderstood." came the explanation as if he had to debrief his food-fetching mission.  
Disgruntled, Biggs snorted at the formality of the younger man's tonation, then helped himself to some of the other's food to compensate for his loss.  
Taking a large bite from the Behemoth-Burger, the name a bit too conceited given the not so impressive size of the dish, Biggs leaned back in the chair he slumped in and let his gaze wander back to the windows.  
They ate in silence for a while, and while chewin on his last bite of the burger, the older man suddenly grinned.  
"Private Wedge!" he exclaimed, having the other one on alert instantly, sitting up straight.  
"Sir!"  
"Not much good in slaving away at the desk for the rest of the night, I say. Time to regroup at the bar."  
Unable to surpress a grin, the younger man nodded his agreement.

* * *

**Centra, Lolesterin Plains, the next morning**

The sound of waves crashing against steep cliffs weaved in with the cry of seagulls and a mild breeze rustling the curtains.  
As most typical for this area of the world and this enclosed by the sea, the sky held a stale grey and no promise of much direct sunlight for the day ahead.  
Stirring in his bed, the blond man gave a resentful groan to the insistent beeping on his bedside table, forcing him from deep slumber mercilessly.  
A hand reached out from under a puffy and warm blanket, reeling around until fingers got hold of the device, shutting it up. Grimacing since he now had an idea of just how cold it would be to get out of his bed, he decidedly sunk deeper into it instead, refusing the reality of his day for just a few more moments of warmth.  
Thinking of which, his fingers spread out in front of him, reaching for the unstirring body next to his. He found what he was looking for, snaked his arm around the waist of the other person and pulled them closer, stealing what warmth he could, receiving a soft cuff from an ellbow in response.  
Chuckling slightly, the blond leaned forward and placed his chin on top of the brown tuft of hair, humming contently.  
He wasn't much of a cuddling person, but giving his more primal instincts waking with him every morning, there wasn't much mistaking about what he was really after.  
And surely, soon enough he sought out more of the pale, uncovered skin beside him, exploring every inch in search of a reaction, which he soon enough provoked by letting his hand slide down to the nether regions.

Half an hour later he had successfully managed to slip out of bed and under the shower, grinning his mightier-than-thou smile while lathering up.  
Best way to start a day in his opinion.  
Enjoying the last bit of heat that he could until he would have to get out and ready for the day, he stood still for a few moments of unusual silence, basking in it. Soon enough he would have to be out by the docks, giving Garkath a hand. Not that he wasn't avid to get hands on during a good day's work, he just didn't like the cold that came with the southern continent much.  
Finishing up and getting out of the shower finally, he briefly toweled himself dry, stepping over to the mirror and clearing the coat of condensed mist with a swipe of his hand.  
Jade-green eyes greeted him, blond hair falling deep into his face, still dropping pearls of water onto his cheeks. A quick inspection of his stubble told him it would be better to shave. Not that Garkath cared, but the customers and his boss at the bar he jobbed at in the evenings would. Better to get it done with, lest he would not get a chance to later in the day, depending on the workload.  
Having finished up, the towel wrapped around his waist, he stepped out of the small bathroom, letting his gaze wander.

His apartment was decent, fitting for the lifestyle he had settled on.  
When entering the front door, a small entrance area opened up to his living room. Bookshelves took up one entire wall filled with an assortment of different readings ranging from weapons over novels to magazines - quite an impressive collection given the short time he had lived here. Garkath had taken to pointing him to vendors that sold or exchanged books, either in shops located by the harbor or from people just passing through with their goods on their boats.  
A small television he had only recently acquired was placed on another wall, a coffee table and a couch giving the area of the living room a welcoming and almost homey sight.  
The doors to the bathroom, kitchen and bedroom took in the other side of the room.  
Sighing, knowing he could no longer postpone getting ready, he headed back into the bedroom, throwing the towel onto a heap of clothes he had to wash soon.  
While he rummaged through his wardrobe, a stir came from his bed followed by a sleepy groan that made him smirk. "Get your ass out of there or you'll be late." he chuckled, slipping into black briefs and a sturdy, dark grey jeans that had seen better days.  
Glancing over his shoulder he could see the brunet emerging from the duvet, hair unruly and sticking in all directions, while accusing blue eyes settled on him.  
"You're fast to get rid of me." came the sulking reply, followed by more rustling as the smaller figure of the young man gave in to reason, not without appreciating the sight that the blond offered before pulling a white shirt over his head, covering what just had been admired.  
"Don't be silly, you know I'm right." the blond teased, grabbing a belt from the chair in front of a small desk piled with more books and other trinkets, slipping it around his waist.  
"I know, I know." came another groan and the other man got up, shivering slightly, before he started to collect his clothes that somehow had landed all over the room the night before.  
The taller blond leaned on his now closed wardrobe with one shoulder, arms crossed over his chest, while he watched the brunet getting dressed with a hungry glint in his eyes. Too bad he didn't have a day off, it would have been more fun to just stay in and indulge in some more debauchery.  
Feeling the staring looks on himself eventually, the brunet finally turned to him, shrugging his vest over his shoulders. "Zephyr, if you don't hurry you will be the one who's late." the man chided, rustling his brown hair to get it into at least a bit more of a decent look.   
Eyes clouding over for just the barest moment, not long enough for the other to notice, the blond nodded. "Sure." he replied curtly, pushing off from the wardrobe and turning to leave the bedroom. Lips pressed thin he strode over to the kitchen, reaching for a cabinet to fetch two mugs and the ground coffee so the both of them could at least have some caffein before starting the long day.   
Filling the filter and adding water to the machine, he busied himself, lost in thought. He watched the black gold drip into the pot, mind easing when he smelled the strong aroma wafting from the machine.  
"Want a cup, Daz?" he shouted back over his shoulder, receiving an affirmating hum as the other man strode over, leaning against the kitchen doorframe leasurly.  
Silence fell between them, not uncomfortable, while the coffee spluttered into the pot happily, until the machine was ready and the blond poured both of them a mug.

The brunet brushed some long strands of hair out of his face, while regarding his opposite with the usual, warm feeling of companionship.  
Rachdale had been a place of refuge during the Second Sorceress War, drawing all people that didn't want any part of the fights to a secluded, yet secure life. The sorrounding sea supplied them with enough food, the cliffs and the general area shelter from prying looks or accidental run-ins.  
Given the fact that the small town had only been constructed not even a year ago, the former tents and shackles had soon started to look a whole lot like a real town, with buildings, shops and other constructions. Daznea had been one of the first to arrive here, having fled the turmoils from Fisherman's Horizon together with a couple of other people. Given the nature of FH-citizens, they were skilled enough to help propel the speed in which Rachdale had been built immensely, causing the town to get that certain FH flair that reminded him of home.  
Zephyr on the other hand had only been here for a couple of months, when rumours had reached that the war was over - at least the part he and other people had fled from. Knowing full well how unstable Galbadia had been in the past in terms of peace-keeping, it was only to be expected that the continent would not lay down arms just because the bigger threat had been banished.  
The blond had been just one of the many people fed up with it, it seemed, when he arrived and started working at the docks right away. He was easy enough to get along with, not shy to work hard and, as Daz found out soon after a night of lots of booze, fuck even harder.  
They had come to an unspoken agreement of friendly companionship, welcoming the fact that they could keep each other company when desired without having to rile up the past too much. No one who lived here liked to think about the past, let alone talk about it. Everybody had their own reasons and no one pried.  
Daz had taken the offered mug and silently indulged in the warm, caffeinated drink, letting his mind wander only to arrive back at the day that lay ahead of him.  
"I'll be heading out to the Alnaj mountains today, Laiphra asked for game and fur." he announced finally, cocking his head.  
It was nothing much new to either of them. Laiphra ran the local entertainment building, which was a fancy name to describe her running a bar, an inn and a restaurant in one.  
Every other month she approached Daznea asking him to fetch some supplies here and there, and he welcomed the challenge. "Care to join?" he asked smugly, emptying the mug in one last gulp.

Catching on, the blond grinned, then sighed apologetically. "Can't do, Garkath will hand me my ass if I bail on him."  
There were a couple of ships announced to anchor today, all bringing freight that needed handling. the tall blond frowned slightly, hating to miss the chance to go hunting with the other man and indulge in some fun after in front of a fireplace up in the mountains. Still, duty was duty and he'd be damned if he slacked, given that Garkath had done so much for him since he arrived here months ago.  
Daz shrugged, seemingly indifferent to his answer. It was always this uncomplicated with him, and the taller man was all the more glad for it.  
"Your loss." he grinned, placing the mug in the sink before stretching. "Alright, I have to go now. I'll call you when I'm back." the brunet announced unceremoniously, nudging the other's shoulder with his own, before turning around and making his way out.  
The blond watched him, humming in approval to his last words, and listened as he could hear the steps of the other man move towards the door, opening it, then closing it softly.  
Only now the blond registered that he had barely drunk any of his coffee, lifting the mug to empty the almost cold drink in quick successing gulps.  
Lost in thought, he placed his mug beside the other one in the sink, not bothering to clean it now that he was late, and made his way back to the bedroom, glancing around to see where his boots had landed the night before.  
With an exaspirated sigh he saw one of them peeking out from under his bed, however that had happened.   
He kneeled down to retrieve it, when his reaching hand's fingertips brushed cold metal and leather. Knitting his brow, a sinking feeling in his stomach, he leaned in further and grabbed the handle attached to the case, pulling it out from under the bed.  
Dust had settled on the once always polished leather case and silver clasps, tinging the red blood cross that took in almost all of the front in a grey hue.  
Swallowing a lump in the back of his throat, he slid back further, pulling the case with him, then his fingers swiftly flung the clasps open. The slight tremor of his hands not unnoticed by him, he pushed the lid open, revealing dark steel molded in elegance and beauty.  
Slender fingers caressed the cold blade, lips pressed into a thin line, daring to reach for the handle of the gunblade, almost closing around it, before he pulled back as if he had burned himself. Staring at the weapon he had almost forgotten over his new life, the blond man swallowed hard, then slammed the case shut, closing the clasps again and pushing it deep under his bed one more time.  
He wasn't ready to face Hyperion again yet. Not after what she did in the war. Not after what _he_ did.

Brushing his hand through his hair in a gesture he had learned to let go in public, his blond strands shifted backwards, revealing the fine, thin line of a scar across his forhead.  
"Fuck this." he mumbled, done with the dwelling of the past. He didn't come here to linger on what he couldn't change, he came here to start over, as all the other residents of Rachdale had.  
Grabbing his boots he got up from the floor, put them on and zipped them in a swift motion, before he headed to the front door, sliding on his grey, thick jacket and fetching his keys from the counter.  
Garkath would rip him a new one if he came any later.

**Centra, the docks of Rachdale, afternoon**

Brushing of a sheen of sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, Seifer straightened his back and glanced at the steel grey sky.   
It had taken all morning and a good part of the day, but the crates from the incoming ships, three to count, had been unloaded and carried over to the stores where they would be emptied and the goods carried to the respective new owners, most of them running shops or establishments that provided food and shelter.  
He could feel the tenseness of his muscles from lifting and shifting all day, content with the sore feeling that positively assured him of a good day's work.  
Garkath had it in for him today, not pleased by his tardiness nor the shadow that seemed to linger on the blonds expression, making sure as always to reign him in just enough that the man would soon have no place for brooding thoughts and focus on the challenging work instead. It's what the old bear of a man did, had always done. He knew the haunted looks in the eyes of men and women alike when they first came here, and oftentimes this look wouldn't fade lest they found new purpose here in Rachdale.  
Seifer was thankful enough for it, having decided long ago that whatever lay behind the horizon and the sea was no longer part of his life, not wanting to dwell on the past or worse, touch the sharp edges of memories better left alone.  
Looking over to the last of the three ships that had anchored, seeing the huge, brawny man stroke his beard absentmindedly, black and silver peppered, he whistled at him to get his attention.  
"Need me for anything else, old man?" he shouted up, ready to go for it should it be the case. A grunt was all he received as a reply at first, Garkath turning to the captain and exchanging brief words, then a rough handshake, before he made his way down and towards the tall blond.  
"All good, those were the last ones." the always harsh voice boomed, a huge hand gesturing vaguely towards the stocks. Then the look of dark brown eyes settled searchingly on the younger man, sizing him up.  
"You better?"  
Smirking slightly over the display of affection that had surprised him massively when the older man did it for the first time, the blond shrugged, then nodded. "Yeah, thanks for pushing me." he replied honestly.  
He could appreciate how Garkath handled his subordinates, knowing full well when to give them a firm hand and when to let something slide. He would have been a good leader, and Seifer knew that a lot of people in Rachdale considered the man just this, despite the town not having any sort of leadership, being as it were.

"Alright then, I better get cleaned up and head over to Laiphra's soon." he mused, looking at his dirty hands and arms. The woman would not appreciate it if he showed up manning the bar like this.  
"Give me a call if you need some more heavy duty work to keep ya mind off things, bo... - son." the old man nodded, correcting himself just in time as he almost slipped by addressing the blond as 'boy'. He had learned quickly that the term seemed to stir something inside the young man better left untouched.  
Even so, he could see the other tense up a second before steadying himself again, brushing the incident off. "Will do." he retorted instead, giving the bear of a man a clasp on the shoulder and a grin before turning around and heading back towards the crude alleys of the haphazard built town.   
Today was fucking weird on a big scale.   
It had been quite a while since he had felt so many triggers tugging at his mind, but he guessed it couldn't be helped. He had seen worse in people arriving here. He himself had been worse.  
Frowning as he noticed his downward spiral of thoughts once more, he shook his head slightly, straightening his posture and taking the distance to his appartment in quick strides. Enough of that now.  
The small town had long come to life, bustling with people going about their day. It was always worth the time just standing in place for a while and watching the residents busying themselves like it was hardly seen anywhere else he had ever been.   
Aside from old people unable to work and kids playing in the alleys, everyone was somehow firmly established in the town's very own machinery - building, repairing, constructing, crafting and generally determined to make Rachdale more of a home than it already was. Never before had he witnessed people working so closely hand in hand towards a goal than he had seen it here.  
Smiling at the thought that gave him even more peace of mind, he pushed open a small front gate that led into a yard, shaded by a single tree. He crossed over to a set of stairs leading him up to the floor of his appartment, accompanied by a couple of more such shelters. He could hear bustling inside of the neighbour's homes here and there, smell food being cooked and children screaming with laughter. It was peaceful.

Turning the key, he opened the door and slipped inside, making haste to get out of his dirty boots and jacket before he entered the appartment proper.  
Stealing a glance at his phone he realized he had a bit of time left to fix himself some food, a dry sandwhich having been the only thing he had the time to eat for lunch today.  
He quickly slipped out of his working clothes, piling them onto the dirty heap in his bedroom, before he fetched some fresh clothes from his wardrobe. Dark slacks and a light grey longsleeve shirt in hand, he made for the bathroom a second time today to quickly wash up, getting rid of the sweat, dirt and grime of this day's labour and slipping into the fresh set of items after.  
Taking a glance to make sure his hair fell into his face properly, covering the scar, he nodded to himself. It had become a habit not worth any thought as of why he did what he did, and he had to admit that the strands, while oftentimes rather annoying when they fell into his eyes, brought out their jade green color allthebetter.  
Smirking, he turned around, turning off the light inside the small bathroom and closing the door, before he made to the kitchen to fix himself a quick meal left in the fridge.  
Admittedly, he would have loved to go hunting with Daz, but he was also looking forward to his shift in the Loneman's Harbour. Given the young age of the town and the fact that it mostly consisted of refugees, most everybody knew each other in the bar. Still, the traderoutes were growing each day, bringing sailors and travelers into Rachdale and ultimately, the Loneman's Harbour, accounting for a lot of new faces every now and then, as well as stories from all over the world.  
His shifts usually were pretty relaxed, allowing for him to just be, living in the moment and bringing his days to a satisfying end, unless Daz was chatting him up and making him drink with him. But then again, he wouldn't argue that those days usually also ended pretty satisfactory. Grinning at the thought, he finished his meal and pushed himself off the counter of the kitchen he'd been leaning on to head back into the entrance area, slipping into his boots again.   
Maybe he'd ask Laiphra to show him how to mix the Malboro Breath if the bar was not too busy tonight. He'd only tried the drink himself once, urched on by Daz, and it had send him to oblivion; a nasty mix of different hard liquors and a hint of cream, making it taste treacherously good before it knocked you off your feet.  
He still couldn't quite remember what had happened after, but Daz had filled him in with a shit-eating grin that he hadn't even been able to find his own home, let alone get a hard on that night. And he was out for revenge, planning to trick Daz into drinking that stuff himself.  
Mind set, he headed out again, leaving the way he came just about and hour ago, releasing himself into the now dimly lit streets of Rachdale.

The Loneman's Harbour was situated on the other side of the small town, placed almost strategically between the docks and the landside entry to Rachdale, making sure that whoever came here and was unfamiliar with the place would stumble upon it.  
It had been the same with him, he mused, as the building came into sight when he turned a corner, hands deep in the pockets of his slacks. A homey silence had fallen over the town, most people retired for the day of hard labour and gratifying work, only disturbed by the familiar, soft mumble getting louder as he approached the entrance of the Loneman's Harbour.  
The building itself consisted of two entries, one pointing to the inn and restaurant part, now closed and only accessible by approaching the bar, and the other being the bar itself.  
A small flight of stairs led him up a porch riddled with small tables and few chairs, inviting the guests to spend the warmer days or their lunch outside if they so wished.  
The double doors that lead inside creaked ever so slightly, barely audible over a rush of laughter that just exploded from inside as a couple of men jovially cheered to each other.  
Seifer looked over to the bar, spotting the redhaired woman immediately and being noticed right away in return.  
Laiphra was in her fourties, yet didn't look the part, all freckles and smiles and a cheeky glisten in her light green eyes. She nodded at him in greeting, before turning back to one of the guests she was just entertaining while drawing him a drink.  
The blond strut past the bar counter, greeting people left and right, before joining Laiphra behind the bar, nudging her softly with his shoulder in greeting, towel already in hand to take care of some splashes of beer that must have been spilled earlier, not yet cleaned up.  
"Hi, Zephyr." the woman greeted cheerily, making her way to the back to assume her role for the rest of the evening, grabbing a tray, pen and notepad as well as a purse for exchange. They had soon found out this way of splitting the tasks worked best for them, the blond being a charming talker, while Laiphra was quick and seasoned when it came to jot down orders of tens of people at the same time without missing a beat.

It sometimes reminded the blond of a dance, or the rhythm of a sparring fight, the to and fro between them, her barking orders or slipping him the papers with requests for drinks while he was in the middle of handing out mugs of beer to people at the bar in front of him, moving about methodically to ready the orders and push them back into her hands when finished.  
It wasn't as thrilling as a spar, so much was sure, but he was pleased this way. He'd had enough thrills for more than a lifetime.  
"Good work today on the docks, boy!" a friendly sailor exclaimed, toasting his just delivered glass towards the blond, grinning at him toothlessly.  
Seifer paused just a second at that mention, passing over it without more than a small frown, before nodding his thanks. Hopefully he'd soon look old enough for people to stop calling him that at random...  
Well he did, there was nothing boyish about his appearance at all anymore, but as was the way with old men, they either called the younger ones boy or son. He guessed there was no way around it but trying to get used to it.  
"Thought you'd be heading out with Daz today." Laiphra hummed a little breathless, joining him back at the bar again after having twirled around the taproom for the best part of an hour, making sure the workers that came in were all settled with drink.  
"Wanted to." he replied, looking up from cleaning a glass, "...but there's too much work on the docks right now, can't leave the old grumbler hanging."  
Grinning at that and nodding her understanding, the redhead took to filling mugs from new orders. They worked in silence for a while, before Laiphra put a soft hand on his shoulder.  
"I'll have to head over to the inn for half an hour, do you think you can manage?"   
Gazing over the now pretty much settled down crowd that took to their drinks much slower while talking idly, as was to expected by the time of night, and sure that there wouldn't be another big rush of new people either, the blond nodded. "Sure."  
Smiling her thanks, Laiphra pulled the apron over her head, hung in the back of the bar and headed towards a door on the other side of the taproom, which linked it to the inn's interior.

The customers all mellowed down and drowsy by now, he figured he could risk to dive under the bar and take care of one of the kegs connected to the taps that had been leaking for the better part of the night, not significantly, but enough to bother him. It was simply a shame to let some good beer go to waste.  
He inspected the wood and the connection to the tap, soon finding the cause being one of the seals not being shut properly, which turned out to be an easy fix. Satisfied with the result, he stood up again, catching a familiar tuft of brown hair from the corner of his eye.  
Frowning, he turned to the guy, confused as to why Daz had come back when he must have already left for the mountains in the early morning.  
He stopped, furrowing a brow when he saw the slouched over posture, then examining the weird set of clothes.  
It looked almost uniform-like from what he could see, beiges and whites and silver, brown leather shoulder pads and a zipper in front. A ragged shawl was slung around the lean shoulders and tucked up almost to the nose of the brunet, and by inspecting the appearance more closely, the uniform seemed rather worn and torn.  
"Daz, what the fuck are you doing here in this outfit?" he implored, stepping closer to get a better look.   
Only then he froze in place, realizing that who he was looking at was, in fact, not Daznea.  
A deep frown firm in place on a pale face, grey-blue eyes fixed on his light leather gloved hands in front of him, brown strands of hair falling into his face just so that he could make out the thin scar between his brows, a perfect mirror of his own.  
"....Squall?"


	3. In Limbo

* * *

You said I look familiar, did we meet the other night?  
Somebody once told me that there's two sides to life  
\- What's yours?  
I might have accidentally let the darkness eat the light  
\- Missio

* * *

**Centra, Rachdale, nighttime**

  
"....Squall?"  
No reaction, not even a flinch.   
An all consuming cold washed over Seifer as he grabbed the counter of the bar with both hands, knuckles white.  
It had to be him.  
No one else had that scar. No one else had these _eyes_.

Numbness and confusion washing over him, the blond closed his eyes for a moment, trying to get back in control of his emotions, his mind.   
Where there had been contentment with how relaxing the evening turned out to be, and him simply looking forward to a hot shower and his warm bed later tonight, there was now a flurry of emotions in a range he couldn't remember feeling anytime in his life before.

The first moment of recognition had almost brought happiness, coaxing the corners of his lips to curl into a smile before the reality of the situation had set in.  
Then the uninevitable guilt rushed in right after, bringing with it a myriad of conflicting emotions.  
Drawing a deep breath, releasing it through his nose, he looked down at the hunched over man staring down at his own hands unblinking.  
"Squall?" another try, voice softer this time.  
For a second he imagined to see a slight twitch of one brow, then again, nothing.  
As if he didn't even realize he was spoken to.  
The blond fought down a snort, remembering that it wouldn't be so uncommon for the Balamb Garden commander to be that deeply lost in thought that he hadn't caught on to his surroundings and his situation yet.

Unsure of what to make of the whole situation, he looked around.  
A few of the regulars at the bar glanced over, having noticed the foreign visitor, seemingly as much at a loss as of what to make of him and his unresponsiveness as the blond was right now.  
This had to be a dream, a fucking nightmare. There was no chance in hell that Squall Leonhart would suddenly turn up out of the blue, here on Centra, in this far off town, right in front of his nose, _on accident_.   
Swallowing hard, Seifer leaned in a little closer, confirming against better judgement that there was, in fact, the telltale scar on the other's face.  
He had those features memorized to the T, had dreamed of this face in all it's states of emotion that barely ever showed to begin with. From it's indifference, it's scowl, it's frown to seething anger.  
And twisted in pain.

  
He recoiled from the memory, yet not able to stop staring at those picture perfect features, the way soft brown strands graced pale skin, lips slightly parted, the brows furrowed ever so slightly as they had always been. It made him shiver, almost pleasantly.  
The blond had never expected to see the man again when he had set out to live in the far south of the world, decidedly choosing the ramshakle town to become his new home, just one of many refugees where no one would ask questions.  
And yet here they were.

He lifted one hand, brought it up in front of the brunet and snipped his fingers a couple of times to see if he could provoke any kind of reaction, if staring at the other while standing right in front of him and calling his name didn't suffice.  
As if stirred from a dream, there came a blink to the grey-blue eyes and they slowly lifted to meet his gaze, sending a jolt of all to well known fight reflex through the tall blond's nerves.

They had tended way too long to their rivalry for it to be any different.  
This always was the part where they declared just that never faltering competition of strength and wit to each other, sneering, jabbing, provoking, until they had to fight to settle the matter for good. And never for long. But nothing like that came from the brunet.  
There wasn't even a spark of recognition in those staleblue eyes fixed on him, just the ennervating indifference that had driven Seifer up the walls on a regular basis.  
"Have we met before?"

The voice was soft, tired, even close to exhausted and nowhere near to being as tantalizing and ennervating as he remembered it to be.   
Any jab of provocation was amiss from the question, it damn near sounded sincere.  
Seifer's brows furrowed, his mind unable to process what was happening and what the question might imply. Was this just the brunet's way of letting him know that there was nothing to talk about? That he should ignore him just like Leonhart apparantly was ready to ignore the tall blond in return?  
There was nothing that could make his anger flare up as quickly as the other ignoring him, and he could feel this old, all too familiar rage tug at his nerves again right away at the thought.  
Or maybe this was a trap?

  
Shooting a quick glance towards the door of the bar, scanning the entrance and trying to make out something through the window, he could not tell if there were SeeDs waiting just outside, ready to pounce once their famous leader would finally call it a day with his bad taste sharade.  
Seifer frowned, slowly glancing back down to the other who still looked at him unmoving, no sign of recognition or taunt whatsoever in those much too familiar eyes. Those beautiful, pale blue eyes.  
Another gush of ice cold ran through Seifer as he came to understand the gravity of the words just spoken.

  
 _Have we met before?_  
It couldn't be. There was simply no way that Squall was actually serious with this question.  
"You... don't recognize me." his voice was flat, more statement than question.  
He searched those cold blues, tried to read the guy as he had so damn many times before in the past, looking for anything that could shine a light on what the fuck was happening here.  
Finally, the brunet shook his head slowly, just so. Dark brows furrowed, as if he tried really hard to connect the other's face with something, any memory, but failed to.

  
The sight drove all air from Seifer's lungs, made his knees weak.   
It was impossible.  
It could not be.  
The thoughts in his head were spinning, blending into each other, sluices flew open that made ugly memories mingle with his confusion and he had to steady himself against the nauseating feeling that swept over him.  
He could not handle this.

Pushing himself off from the counter, he spun around, making his way around the bar in hasty strides, almost running into Laiphra as she was about to join him.  
"I have to go, sorry." he pressed out with a wild look around his eyes, blinded by the overwhelming rush of memories forcing themselved down on him, brushing past her without any more explanation, hurrying through the doors of the bar and into the night.

  
Cold air embraced him, furthering the shivers his body was violently throwing him into and he stumbled a few steps, almost falling down the flight of stairs of the porch, catching himself on the railing just in time.  
Breathing heavily, he tried to find at least a little composure, remembering too late his suspicion of SeeDs awaiting him outside. He looked about frantically, but there was no one there.  
His hands trembling, he felt disoriented and too overwhelmed to act for a couple of minutes, just clinging onto the railing for dear life, trying to calm his nerves.

  
If he didn't recognize him, it could hardly be Squall. It must be a mistake, he mixed something up.  
But the scar... those eyes...  
Steps sounded from behind him, closing in and he groaned, pulling himself up straight and forcing his own way further down the stairs. Right now he had no mind of dealing with any drunk regulars.  
"Squall." came that voice again, so unmistakingly _his_.  
Seifer looked over his shoulder, glancing the light unifom the brunet was wearing. He looked like a fucking lost puppy with no sense for fashion.  
"...you called me 'Squall'." the other one pressed with that soft voice, as if tasting the name on his own hyne-damned tongue.  
"Do... you know me?"  
What the fuck?! 

  
Seifer spun around, agitated, ready to get into their usual, bickering fight but there was still none of the provocation in either the brunet's eyes nor his voice or posture. He just stood there, like an empty shell of a man.  
It made the blond's heart draw tight.  
"Do you know who I am?" the smaller man implored further, after a long pause, taking another step towards him.

  
Realization struck Seifer before he could stop himself from thinking about the seeming ridiculousness any further as he finally connected the dots, making perfect sense of the whole ordeal. This was no game, no trap or some bad taste joke. Neither was it Squall camouflaging any feelings towards him for the sake of being left alone, forcefully removing Seifer from his thoughts, not willing to acknowledge his existence.  
This was some top notch memory loss.  
His jaw worked, at a loss for words as he looked about, stalling. Whatever he had expected, should the unlikely event occur that he would ever run into Leonhart again, this was not cutting close at all.

"Must've mistaken you." he murmured finally, his fists clenched, turning on his heels and heading further down the road. This was ridiculous. Nothing made any sense and if he hadn't been sure that he had declined all drinks tonight, he would have thought himself drunk. But no, he was as sober as could be, and there was no other reason for him to be seeing things, imagining things.  
Rushing on, he tried sealing all those unwanted pictures of the past back where they belonged, his head still spinning from the realization he had come to.  
 _Squall Leonhart had lost his memory and somehow still had ended up in his town._  
How fucking likely was that?

  
"Wait, please!"  
Before he knew it, he had stopped dead in his tracks as the soft voice reached him, pleading.  
Torn inside, he let his gaze sink to the cobblestones, jaw working, fists clenching.  
This was bad.  
He was the absolute wrong person to be running into Squall when he wasn't remembering anything, positively suffering from amnesia. Even the most unpleasant and worst resident of the town would be a better choice for talking to the brunet than him, not after all that happened. 

  
His moment of reluctance was enough for the brunet to catch up with him, stopping only a few steps behind him.  
He chuckled lowly. This couldn't really be happening, right?  
Glancing over his shoulder once more, he pressed his lips into a thin line, waiting.  
Silence took a hold of the bizarre scenery and gave him a moment to realize that Squall had probably spoken more words than his daily contingent allowed by now.  
"I need answers." 

  
Seifer huffed. Well, big fucking surprise right there. And he needed a good nights fuck but was he getting it?  
Setting his jaw, the blond felt his shoulders tense, every part inside of him torn between guilt and unforgiving fury... and a strange hint of want.   
He turned around, glaring at the smaller man that was looking up at him with the same stubborn look in his eyes that had always pushed his buttons. No, there was no mistaking who stood in front of him, no matter how unlikely.  
"I'm not down to play any of your sick games, Leonhart. You hear me?" he hissed, one second short of grabbing the other man by the collar, all thoughts of remorse and wanting to apologize for what he had done out the window. Staring into those eyes did not help the turmoil inside of his head, like thundering waves crashing against the boundaries of his mind, slowly licking away his sanity. He had to dismiss the other, he had to push him far, far away so he would be out of this town sooner better than later. There were better places to look for answers. Better people to turn to, as well.  
With another growl he spun around again, continuing his way down the small road with a brisk stride, vanishing into the darkness.

Something about the way the blond man had looked at him, talked down to him, seemed to resonate inside the brunet, if upsetting. It felt both familiar and unpleasant, piling onto his confusion. His chest contracted at the sight of the other man disappearing into the darkness, and some part of him wanted to follow, scared of loosing him... again?  
Biting his lower lip, lost in thought, he could not help but stand there, at a loss of what to do next.  
He hadn't expected anything like this to play out when he had finally reached a town, hopeful to warm up for a moment before looking for shelter.

  
"By Hyne, what was that all about?" he heared a woman's voice breathe softly, not far behind him.  
Turning to look, he saw the redhaired barkeep that was almost run over by the fleeing blond before.  
"I've never seen him like this." she added after a pause, looking at him apologetically.  
He looked away, frowning. Something inside of him urged him that what had just transpired was nobody's business, and that he didn't care if anything was anyone's typical behaviour.  
"Whatever." he said flatly, crossing his arms in front of his chest. It seemed like a dead end, the blond didn't want to talk to him and now he was gone. No point in dwelling on his behaviour which, ultimately, had had no real consequence for him.  
Pausing, the woman sized him up for a moment, seemingly trying to make sense of him. Then she smiled a toothy smile, warm and welcoming.

  
"You're right. You must be new, I haven't seen you around. Need a place to stay?"  
Something irked him about the cheery way the stranger in front of him spoke to him, acting like they knew each other very well. Wasn't it rather naive to invite strangers like that? The area didn't necessarily seem very trustworthy, this town aside, and he wouldn't be surprised if some shady figures passed through here more often than not.  
His previous thought made him frown, reminding him that maybe she _did_ know him. But then again, she would hardly ask if he was new around the place.  
He shrugged, pressing his lips into a thin line, unsure how to proceed. It was rather cold and he would indeed need a place to stay, but he had no money on him.  
"I can't pay." he murmured, already trying to come up with a plan that would grant him a sheltered place to sleep for the night out in the tundra. He shouldn't have come here this late without a fallback plan. 

The redhaired woman laughed, shaking her head. "Don't worry about that, you can work your dept off if you like." she offered, gesturing back towards the bar with lifted brows.  
Looking up and taking in the dim lit road, he pondered his options. Staying at a warm place sheltered from the cold wind and possible rain, not to speak of monsters, seemed like the better way to go, and he wasn't shy to work any debt off as the woman suggested.   
A firm nod came from the brunet. "...thanks." he hummed finally, ignoring the bright smile the redhead beamed at him as he agreed.   
"Wonderful. Come with me, I'll show you a room where you can stay." she said, appearing content with herself.   
Shrugging, Squall fell into step behind her, following her back towards the bar.

Laiphra led the way across the taproom, nodding towards the place the young man had sat down before. "Please take a seat for a moment, we will be closing up soon. Have to take care of the regulars before." she winked, then busied herself behind the bar to get everything cleaned up, chatting with the few remaining guests in the room.  
She watched as the brunet slumped down on his seat again, resuming to stare at his own hands like he had before.

The curiousity of her patrons was tangible, yet no none seemed eager to adress the man directly. Laiphra knew full well, why.   
In the beginning, there had been many such men and women washed up in Rachdale, all quiet and no talk, some mourning their past in utter silence, others reaching out soon to find some sort of consolation in the companionship of strangers who had suffered similar things as they had.  
The young man seemed to be the former, and she wouldn't pry. Neither would most people in Rachdale, the war too fresh on their minds to dismiss the obvious wish to be left alone.  
Having pity with the brunet, she placed a glas of water in front of him once she was done with her last round, reminding her guests that she would be closing up soon.  
"On the house." she winked, only to be answered with more silence and a frown. 

Putting away clean glasses and mugs, the woman saw off one guest after the other, until silence filled the taproom at last. Glancing through the window she gathered that there were about two hours left until sunrise, the bar having been more packed than usually.  
She stretched, hanging her apron in it's place, then turned around to the brunet.   
"Alright, let's get you all set up."  
At that, the young man slowly got up, barely having touched his glass.

Laiphra grabbed a heavy set of keys from behind the bar and made for the entrance, sliding one of the keys in and turning it, locking the bar until she would open up later in the night again.  
She then turned and made her way across the room, back to the door that linked both the bar and the inn. 

The adjacent room served as a small storage for laundry and cleaning utensils as well as some ledgers she had to consult when placing orders for food and drink and other necessities of the Loneman's Harbour.  
She grabbed a set of linen in the passing, as well as a towel, then she led the man through to the next door and into the entrance of the inn.

What from the outside might look not as welcoming as the Deling Hotel on main street could almost compete when seen from inside. Warm mahagony made up most of the interior, the floor boards creaking ever so softly when stepped upon.  
A flight of stairs led them upstairs into a hallway, witness to the few guests this inn would ever harbor.   
There were three doors on one side of the hallway wall, leading into the guest rooms, and another door that held a shared bathroom.  
Laiphra nodded towards another set of stairs at the end of the hall.  
"That's where I live." she said for good measure, just to avoid any awkwardness should the man look for something and mistake that part of the building for more public space.

Deft hands loosened a key from her chain, then she opened the room closest to the bathroom. Having no other guests staying over right now, she figured it would be more accomodating for the brunet to not have to make his way down the entire hall in the morning.  
She entered the small room, one bed at the end of it beside a window, a small table and a chair next to it and a coffee table and a worn armchair on the other side. An open wardrobe invited guests to hang their clothes.

Laiphra placed the key on the coffee table, then turned around and took the man in.   
She had never seen this type of uniform before, but was sure it had some sort of military resemblance to it. She also noticed the lack of any bearings.  
"You have nothing with you?"   
The brunet frowned, having stayed in the doorframe to take in his shelter for the night, shaking his head in answer.  
Nodding, the redhaired woman brushed past him, making a gesture towards the room.  
"Get comfortable, I'll be right back."

Grimacing slightly at the choice of words, the brunet entered the room proper, standing in the middle of it undecidedly. Getting comfortable seemed to be impossible at this point in his life, but he refused to let his train of thought pick up on the particular reasons why.

He could hear the creaking of footsteps ascending the stairs the woman had pointed out earlier, deliberate footfalls above his head following after.  
He hated the feeling of not being in control of his current situation, not even having a set of fresh clothes to fall back on. His fingers absentmindedly trailed over his hip, feeling the proximity of a dagger sheathed at his side, gloved fingertips passing over empty junction points. He felt loss at the touch, not sure what to make of it, and pulled away, not wanting to touch the raw edge of emotions that seemed to be slumbering, yet ready to awake at the slightest, wrong nudge.

Minutes passed in silence, him just standing there, thoughts being pulled back to the memory of green depths staring into him as if looking for something. There was a familiarity to it he couldn't place, an ache that made no sense to him.   
His gaze fell to a mirror hung on the wall next to the wardrobe, reflecting his figure, mercilessly showing him just how out of place and lost he looked.

Turning away decidedly, he saw the woman appearing back in the doorframe, a set of neatly folded clothes in her hands.  
"These are Daz's clothes, he has your figure. They should fit you." she announced, not explaining who the person was she was talking about, as if he'd ought to know.  
Placing the clothes on his bed next to the linen and towel, she straightened again, smiling at him.  
"He's out of town for a while but I doubt he'll mind."  
The brunet frowned, crossing his arms over his chest once more, uncaring if a stranger bothered if she gave him something she probably shouldn't without asking. It was none of his business.

"I'll leave you to it then. The bathroom is on the floor to your right." the redhaired woman finally said, realizing there was no response or even thanks to be coming from the man.  
Turning one last time on the doorstep, she looked back at him.  
"Rest up as long as you want. We'll talk conditions of work later." a wink, and she was gone, closing the door behind her, leaving him to his own devices again.

He had grown used to silence, to be left alone and with his thoughts, and the familiarity of it had struck a chord from the beginning.  
Remembering soft lights and and lush greens deep under the surface of the earth, he sighed. A part of him had wished to stay there forever.

Not willing to let regret sink in and make him linger on the memories any longer, he turned to have a look at the set of clothes given to him.  
A pair of black jeans, well worn but in good condition, alongside a black longsleeve, a dark grey jacket fit for the colder environment and even a pair of seemingly new boxer briefs.  
He grabbed the latter and the towel, making his way outside and in to the bathroom next to his quarter. 

It was small, with white tiles and no window, a shower, a sink and a toilet.   
Placing the boxers on the sink, the towel next to it, he started opening the zips of his gloves, pulling them off. Slim, pale hands with callused fingers emerged underneath, blistered scarrings around his wrists. The look of them pulled on his memories for the briefest moment, not enough to actually sink in and bring some clarity to his past.

Knowing the reaction, he sighed, put the gloves aside and removed the grey-brown, tattered shawl that had been wrapped around his shoulders and neck. It felt too naked, as if something was missing, when he let it fall to the floor.  
Frowning at the impression that didn't haunt him for the first time, he unzipped the uniform, pulling the fastener all the way down to his hips so he could shrug out of the beige, thick clothing. Leaning down, he unzipped his black boots too, slipping out of them and pushing everything aside.   
When he straightened again, his gaze fell into the mirror in front of him and above the sink.  
A tired face, stale blue eyes looking back at him, assessing his own features. 

He leaned in, bringing his fingertips to the cold glass, grazing it slightly.  
"...Squall..." he hummed, letting the name roll from his tongue as if tasting it while trying to connect it with the face that was staring back at him.  
It tasted... foreign. 

Yet, the blond man in the bar seemed to have recognized him, calling him Squall. And Leonhart. Was that his name?   
Part of him wished he had taken chase, followed the man and demanded answers. Another part had been too scared to, as much as he hated to admit to that feeling.  
Hadn't he demanded answers? How very consistent of him to let the one person run that appeared to be able to give those to him.  
His mouth quirked downwards, annoyed with himself he slipped out of his underwear and into the shower, turning it on, flinching at the unexpected coldness that soon eased into a warm pattering of water.

It was no use, it happened the way it did and he couldn't change it.  
The only thing he could do was hope that the man might show up again, as he seemingly worked at the bar downstairs. He would have enough time until the evening to plan how he would approach the matter if it presented itself, and this time he would get his answers.

**Centra, Streets of Rachdale, dawn**

Accompanied by swearing, a flat stone thrashed into the waves, soon followed by another one.  
How long he had been sitting on the far off side of the docks, he didn't know, but the slight orange tint that crept into the base of the horizon told him it was close to dawn.  
Maybe another one or two hours at best.

He cursed again, burying his cold and stiff hands deep into the pockets of his jacket, swaying slightly.  
Staying in his apartment and trying to calm down had been to no avail, he had only paced the rooms like a beast in a cage unable to focus or clear his mind in any way, so he had grabbed a bottle of cheap whiskey and made for the docks, needing to do _something_.

The bottle now two thirds empty and standing next to him, a nice, sluggish feeling had settled in over his brain, yet it was not enough to entirely keep his mind from roaring.  
The improbability of what had happened tonight still fresh and sharp, Seifer wished he could do anything to numb the nauseating feeling of guilt that ripped at his insides.  
He came here to forget. He had _managed_ to forget, at least as much as the months that had passed allowed him, drowning himself in work and keeping just busy enough to not fall back into old habits, or following unwelcomed trains of thought for that matter.

Fuck, he had even changed his damn _name_ just so he would never have to face his past again, something he was ashamed of, having carried it in pride his whole life.  
And now, within a moments notice, he felt shattered into a thousand pieces again.

When Fujin and Raijin had saved him from Lunatic Pandora, he had been on the verge of death, barely holding on. They had nursed him back to life, helped him pick up the pieces, giving him all the time he needed, all the space he needed, but in the end, it had not been enough. His friends had understood when he finally came to the conclusion that staying with them was of little help, at least for now, and that he needed to be somewhere far away, where memories couldn't reach.  
If they could see him now. He was pathetic.

Huffing, he closed his eyes, fingers searching for the bottle to drown another good measure of stinging alcohol.  
Heavy footsteps behind him made him frown, the old anger swelling in his chest, barely contained. He wanted to be alone, not talk, not think, drown every piece and bit his mind was throwing at him.

"The night's always darkest before the dawn." a rough voice mused above and beside him, the burly figure of Garkath looming close by, dark eyes fixed on the horizon.  
Snorting at the philosophic words, Seifer shook his head slightly, taking another deep sip.

Silence fell again, just the waves crashing and gusts of wind blowing, while none of the both men spoke a word for a long while. The orange tint grew stronger slowly but steadily while the blond ignored the side glances the old man was giving him, analyzing what he saw no doubt.  
"I won't pry, Zephyr, you oughta know that." the man began lastly, a soft underlying tone to his harsh voice that he only used when he wanted to bring a point across and which was far different from the one he used when shooing his workers around the docks.  
"Some things will come back ta haunt ya though. An' that bottle won' help scarin' off the ghosts of the past."  
Didn't he know it. Still, everything right now seemed better than to face what he had successfully buried so deep and so well. There was no atonement for what he had done. There was no escaping it, either it seemed. Even when he had examined all the ways he could apologize to Squall if he ever got the chance, he had felt pathetic for even considering it. There was no taking back what he had done. Especially to Squall.

Taking another swig, he clenched his teeth, biting down sharp comments that he wanted to throw at the old man for talking about things he had no clue about.  
"Will be daylight soon. Doubt ya will be any good fer work, son. Go home. Sleep it off." the gruff man said before turning away, heading back to where his office resided on the other side of the docks.

Glad to be alone again but realizing that it was probably for the better if he headed home, lest people who knew him saw him in this dishevelled state, he reluctantly decided to follow the man's advice. Deep down he knew Garkath meant well, as he always did, but the blond had a hard time accepting it in his current state of mind.  
The amount of alcohol surging through his system shot right to his head the moment he stood up, making him sway considerably with one bottle in his hand. 

Frankly, he didn't care much what anyone thought of him right now, but the still sluggishly working part of his brain ordered him to be considerate of the people of the town, especially those that had cared for him. He couldn't have Garkath receive bad reputation for employing a drunk, and he couldn't have those he worked with be worried if he could assume the heavy lifting without risking their safety.  
Glad that the streets were still empty and hopeful that people were too busy to watch him through their windows, he made his unsteady way along the docks and up the cobblestone path that would lead him to his apartment.   
The night had retreated significantly by the time he fumbled with the small iron gate, but as most days, the sky was stale and unforgiving, pulling over them like a dark blanket.

Taking a last swig from the bottle and emptying it, he hurled it over a hedge, not caring much were it would land, before he started climbing the stairs at the side of the building. It proved rather difficult, his vision blurry and his movements sluggish, but in the end he made it to his appartment door, needing another ten minutes to fumble with his key and get it to slide into the lock so he could get in.  
Finally being embraced by warmth, he hummed, feeling tiredness creep up. He hadn't slept for close to twentyfour hours, and not having rested much the night before either, his body was screaming to lay down and get a shut eye.

**Centra, Rachdale, evening**

Somehow he must have made it to his bed, judging from the warmth and the soft feel beneath him.   
He couldn't quite remember how, or that he had even made his way back home, but apparantly he had the presence of mind to hurl his ass back here and onto the matress.  
Swiping with his hand at the crust of dried spit on his chin, he groaned as unforgiving pain thrummed through his head.  
Fuck.

Carefully opening one eye, he tried to grasp the time of day. It was darkening.  
At the sight and the following realization he shot upright, immediately regretting the quick movement as an acute pain seared through his head once more, pounding at his skull.  
Too late he remembered vaguely how Garkath had told him to sleep it off, to go home and not come to work.  
 _Fuck!_

There went a good day's pay. But it was on him entirely.  
Scrunching his eyes together to somehow ward off the headache from his hangover, he blindly groped for the night stand, pushing off several items in the process which didn't help his hurting head as they tumbled to the floor noisily. Finally he got a hold of the drawer, pulled it open and rummaged for an antidote. Finding it, he uncorked it with a flip of his thumb and downed it in one go.

The bitter quality of the liquid made him shudder, but he could already feel his pain subsiding, all remaining influences of his escalation the night before fading with it.  
When he rolled his shoulders and was certain the medication had done it's job, he slowly got out of bed and stepped to his window. He hadn't even managed to undress.

Dim lights started to appear in town, and even though he felt slightly better than the night before, there was a heaviness settled inside of him he couldn't shake.  
Not noticing himself doing it, the blond ran a hand through his hair, just like he used to all the time back then. "This is such bullshit..." he mumbled without any anger or force behind his words, his voice rather flat and resigned.  
When his phone rang, Seifer winced, pulling him from his darkening thoughts just in time before he could start loosing himself to them again.

"Laiphra." he greeted the woman on the other end of the line, a slight smile tugging at his lips.  
"Hey Zephyr. Are you feeling better?" she greeted back, a hint of worry in her intonation.  
Remembering that he had left her standing without a word of explanation the night before, he stifled a groan and brought his fingers to his forhead, massaging a brow.   
"Shit, yes Lai, sorry for that." he apologized, cursing his lack of control over his own emotions.  
"It's alright, don't mention it. I'm glad you're okay." the woman brushed the entire situation off sympathetically. 

She had always been too good for this world, that much was sure.  
Daz had once told him about how she had taken him in when he arrived in Rachdale, very much at the beginning of the town's founding. He had been staying with her ever since, feeling both indepted to the woman but also close to her, like family.  
The thought of what Daz had told her in mind, another premonition dawned on him and he could feel that sinking feeling in his stomach anew. 

"That young man you spoke to..." she began sure enough, "...it seemed like he knows you?"  
Laiphra would never pry into his business, but the fact that she asked about Squall could only mean one thing.  
"He doesn't." Seifer replied lowly, letting his hand sink and his gaze wander back out of the window. "...but _I_ know _him_."

A pause, as the woman took a moment to try and understand the contradicting words of the blond, followed by a sigh.  
"Well whatever it is, I just wanted to let you know that he is staying at the inn." she continued warily at last.  
Having witnessed the emotional outburst of the blond the night before, she worried it would do them no good to meet again. But she simply couldn't send someone who clearly needed help away, either.

Seifer didn't speak for a while, trying to imagine the unlikeliness of Squall now being here in this little town, in close enough proximity that they simply had to run into each other at one point.   
Sighing, he shook is head.  
"Thanks for telling me." he replied, not sure what to think of the whole situation yet. He would have to work with it somehow, there was no way around it. Maybe he was lucky and the brunet would be on his way again sooner rather than later.  
"I'll get ready and be at the bar within the hour." the blond added after a pause, wanting to make clear that just because the situation was a given now, he would not quit working for her. He especially wouldn't let Leonhart drive him from the life he had built for himself.

"Good to know, I'll see you then!" she replied, sounding positively relieved and much happier now than just a moment before.  
Seifer hang up and placed his cell on the night stand, starting to peel out of his clothes and adding yet more items to his pile of laundry he would have to take care of soon.  
Taking a hot shower and getting into some fresh clothes would surely make him feel allthebetter, and he would use the time until he had to be at the bar for his shift to make up his mind as to how to tackle this new circumstance in his life.

**Centra, Loneman's Harbour Inn, the same evening**

Stretching his limbs delicately, testing for any soreness of the muscles and surprised not to find one, a small yawn escaped dry lips.  
Given the darkness of the room, he wasn't sure if he had slept at all, so he turned around to lie on his other side and glance to the window next to his bed.  
When he had been ready from his shower to lie down and try to sleep, the first light of day had started creeping over the horizon. Now it had almost completely faded.  
Sleep he did, then.

Feeling the same old familiar heavyness sink into his chest, he closed his eyes for another few minutes, wanting to dwell in the drowsy state between waking and sleeping just a little bit longer.   
Not for the first time he wondered what it must feel like to wake up with a sense of purpose, a goal for the day, be it as simple as going to work, or tending to someone else, or anything other than the constant and residing emptiness that had taken up his being.

All he could do was wander around aimlessly, looking for answers to questions he barely dared to ask, uncertain if he wanted the clarity he knew he was lacking.  
When he resided in the small village under the surface of the earth, he at least had some kind of routine. Feeling the need to move his body and bring it to it's limits had him starting to jog over the vicinity every morning, even sometimes joining one of the peculiar residents in their sequence of slow but graceful movements. It was unnervingly slow at first, making him wonder what the appeal of it was, until he one morning found himself sinking into the exercise effortlessly, letting his body shift from one purposeful pose to the next without pause, without stumbling. And he had felt at ease for the first time since waking up from... -

Shaking his head, he sat up abruptly, not wanting to go there.  
Better he busied himself getting dressed than touching the memories of his first moments after he came to.  
Swinging his legs off the bed, he let his eyes wander around the room aimlessly, not entirely sure of what to do once he would be ready to leave.

His gaze lingering on the set of clothes, he wondered if he should leave them untouched and instead take his uniform and get out of town again, heading elsewhere, wherever that might be.  
Then again, here he had at least a chance of speaking to someone who might help him.

Letting out another deep sigh, he got up and grabbed the black jeans, putting them on. It was no use to sit here and think everything over when it was easier to just take some action and go from there, at least in his current situation.  
Buttoning up, he slipped into the longsleeve next and made to put on his boots next, feeling strangely comfortable in his new outfit. He would at least blend in better with the locals this way, he gathered.  
Combing his hair with his fingers in a futile attempt to make it look more presentable, he huffed and gave up on it soon, deciding he had stalled enough.

The brunet grabbed the key to the room and slipped outside, making sure to lock the door before he turned around, pocketing the little silver thing safely away.  
He then made for the stairs, aware of the utter silence of the place. It seemed like there were no other guests staying at the inn, which he found likely when he reached the bottom of the stairs, standing in a dark entry room.  
There was no one behind the reception either.

Furrowing his brows, he looked around, trying to make sense of the place, before he remembered that the redhaired woman had led him inside through an adjacent door.  
Opening it, the soft smell of clean bedsheets and towels welcomed him, telling him he had taken the right way. From behind the next door, he could her faint bustling, but it didn't sound like the bar was already open, or at least there seemed to be no guests in.  
He pushed the door softly, wondering for a moment if he should have knocked, and glanced inside. Sure enough, the redhead was just in the middle of putting the chairs that she had set atop the tables the night before down again to make the bar presentable.

She noticed him after a moment, smiling brightly at the sight of him.  
"Hello, dear. Why, look at you, I knew Daz's clothes would fit you snugly."  
Frowning at the endearing words like he was some kind of child, he reluctantly stepped in and closed the door, nodding simply to signal his thanks and that the clothes indeed fit good enough.

"Hope you rested well? And you must be starving, I can fix you something!" Laiphra beamed while still bustling about, setting down chairs.   
The young man was an utterly silent individual, but she didn't mind in the least. She had seen a lot since the war and if being reserved or even cautious was how she was approached, she could handle it. Most people had their reasons for why they acted the way they did, and in Rachdale no one judged. Well, maybe some did, but she would take a wager that the residents of the small refugee town were all in all way more laid back and understanding then in other places across the world.

They had learned to work together like a well oiled machine right from the start, and grinding that machine by being too snoopy about their neighbours or forcing ones views and expectations on others, they wouldn't have made it this far.  
Laiphra couldn't help but stop a moment to take in the sight of the young brunet in front of her who was still standing close to the door, appearing unsure as of what to do.

The visual semblance to Daznea was striking, as much as their characters seemed to be entirely opposites.   
When the brunet finally nodded again to answer her question, she jerked her head towards the remaining tables. "Will do. Be a sweety and take care of the rest of the chairs for me in the meantime, will you?"  
And with that she rushed past him through the door he just closed to head over to the restaurant part of the building, where they kept the food. She would fix him something quick and nourishing, having noticed the pale face and the look as if the man hadn't eaten properly in quite a while.

Frowning at the overly enthusiastic nature of the woman, the brunet watched her leave the taproom, biting his lower lip while lost in thought. He still wasn't sure if all of this was such a good idea.  
Still, he had agreed to work off his debt and putting down a couple of chairs would be a small price to pay for his first proper meal in days.  
He got to it, taking care to place the chairs neatly just like the woman had done before.   
Most of the tables were already done in the front part of the taproom, so he made to the back slowly, working around each table at a steady pace, somewhat glad to have something to do.  
He didn't notice the door to the bar opening, having arrived at the back of the room with just a couple more tables left to tend to, neither did he feel the stare lingering on him right away.

Seifer should have had expected to see the brunet tonight, but he hadn't really thought he would run into him as soon as he entered the Loneman's Harbour.  
He was just about to announce his presence to Laiphra, when his eyes were immediately drawn towards the slender figure setting down stools in the back of the room.

Was he wearing Daz's clothes?  
He could swear he had ripped them off another brunet at some point in time.

As much as he had confused Squall for the other man the night before, he couldn't have been more wrong. Sure, they were of the approximately same height and stature, but even from this distance Seifer could see that Squall was better build all in all, his years of training showing clearly when he strained and stretched.  
Furthermore, the way Squall moved was almost graceful, every step deliberate, every move purposeful. And while Daz's hair was of nearly the same shade as the other brunet's, Squall's hair was longer, seemed even a bit softer, less ...manly?  
And those eyes...

Whenever he had looked into Daznea's eyes he couldn't help but think them too blue, too much like cornflower and not enough like the sea during a storm  
Just now realizing how struck he was at the mere sight of Squall, he still couldn't help but stare at him, take him in and commit his every move to memory.  
He should be bothered by how oblivious the brunet was to him, should throw some snide remark at him to make him react, make those eyes zone in on him, _see_ him. But right now, if he could, he would freeze this moment in time.

Feeling the prickling of someone watching him in the back of his head, the brunet stiffened, unsure if his instincts warned him of impeding danger or if they misfired.  
He set his jaw and turned around, spotting the blond man from the night before standing at the entrance of the bar, staring at him unmovingly.

Allthesame, he himself suddenly seemed unable to move, a feeling of familiarity washing over him as he regarded the tall blond, their eyes locked across the room.  
A shiver sent goosebumps over his skin as if all his being was in anticipation, expecting something to happen like it... always did?  
And somewhere deep inside of him there was an eager spark of annoyance, ready to burst into flame and counter any taunting look or word that he somehow expected to be thrown at him.  
He barely noticed how his facial expression turned into a frown, mirroring the underlying annoyance for merely a second, before the inner turmoil faded and he was left with that sinking feeling, the confusion he had grown so accustomed to.

Observing the display of emotion, however slightly, on Squall's face, Seifer was about to spit out a snappy remark, a reflex from simpler days, as it already vanished and was replaced with the empty expression he already regarded the night before.  
He huffed, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.  
At least some things never seemed to change, no matter how far gone one's memories were.

He took a deep breath, glancing around the room noticing that Laiphra must have taken off for the moment, giving the both of them another few minutes to themselves.  
The blond finally started moving, taking leasure steps towards the other man and, upon reaching him, he took down the last two remaining chairs each with one hand, placing them on the floor firmly.  
"I guess we should talk." he spoke lowly, turning toward Squall and taking his appearance in from up close.

He had changed since he last saw him, if not much. Amnesia aside, there were fine lines in his face that hadn't been there back in Garden, and he could spot one or two scars on his neck that seemed to be new as well.  
Wondering for a brief moment how many scars the brunet might sport altogether, he couldn't help a smirk, before he gestured to the bar counter.  
"But not right away, I have to work. You can stay if you like."  
Not a question, a mere offer. The day he truly was able to tell Squall Leonhart what to do and be obeyed, he would mark down in his fucking calendar.

To his surprise, he received a brief nod in agreement that left open whether the brunet took his offer or agreed to talk.  
Grinning slightly, Seifer turned around and made his way to the bar, hearing the footsteps of the other man following him.


	4. Your Name

* * *

“Names are not always what they seem.”  
― Mark Twain

* * *

**Deling City, General Caraway's estate, the previous morning**

  
"Look, I can't do much more than I already have, you need to understand that."  
Impatience betrayed the reasoning words as the General set his shoulders, assuming an authoritarian posture, likely wishing to invoke respect.  
He should know that such gestures had never worked with his daughter, and probably never would.  
Quirking an eyebrow at him, she put her hands on her hips, just like her mother would have done when she was mad with him. It took all of his composure not to smile at the memory her display evoked.  
They were in his office room, the lush curtains drawn back, allowing for the sun's warm rays to slip in.   
Caraway stood behind his massive working desk, supposedly once owned by royalty and passed down generations of other generals, a laptop opened with his time schedule for the day. A quick glance reminded him of a meeting later that morning, as well as a message from his currently present and very livid daughter demanding the technical setup to have a video call with the president of Esthar, 'A.S.A.P.'  
  
"Have you watched the news lately?" he continued, less dismissive now, letting some of the worry he felt slip into his voice to signal the ravenhaired young woman that he was serious, that _this_ was serious.

Under the surface, Galbadia was boiling, and he wasn't sure how much longer it would take until the entire continent would erupt in a volcano of unrest, if not a full blown war, right under their feet.  
Timber had always been a melting pot of problems with all it's resistance groups that never had accepted how the Timber War ended way back when.  
And now Dollet seemed to have gotten a taste of it as well.  
Admittedly, Vincer Deling had stirred the pot significantly a year ago when he tried to seize Dollet, allowing a lot of the things that happened after to transpire in the first place.  
The power vacuum that had followed didn't help stabilizing the fragile balance of the continent either, and to this day the political affairs were not settled.  
For now, he was left in charge to attend meetings with possible candidates, stuck in a vicious circle of neverending bickering and dodging of responsibilities.

"You should have heard him last night, he doesn't even care!" he heard Rinoa retort with exaspiration and anger.   
It made him sigh heavily, and letting his straight posture relax when he turned to her, he gave her a look of compassion.  
It wasn't that he refused to understand her urgency, or that he didn't care for the young man she so desperately tried to find. Much more, he saw all sides of the cards that lay on the table.  
"That is because he can't help himself, Rinoa. He is a soldier, has been all his life. He wants to serve his country and not hunt down a missing person."

Knowing full well that speaking out the truth would hardly gain him her sympathy, he wasn't surprised to hear a snort and see her stalking up and down the room again, agitated.  
"And didn't he do a good job last time he was sent to serve is country?" she hissed, words dripping sarcasm, remembering vividly how her and the others had fought the man and his subordinate in Lunatic Pandora. How could her own father come to the defence of someone that had tried to kill her? Sometimes she really had to wonder if she had been a product of that man's loins at all.

"Maybe he doesn't want to be found..." the general mused, touching on another point of view his daughter would hate him for.  
As if she needed a reason to.

Fury Caraway could not remember when things had shifted to the animosity Rinoa felt towards him nowadays. He could still see her sitting in his lap when he told her a story, preferably of her mother, as she so often had insisted. Sometimes, he would sit on the edge of the girl's bed while they both listened to Julia's voice from the stereo.  
It had hurt to hear his late wife's voice, especially knowing her most famous song had been dedicated to another man, but he also knew that letting Rinoa know as much as he could about her mother was of utter importance.   
And still, somehow, he had failed being a good father at some point.

"We talked about this." Rinoa deadpanned, not wanting to discuss the matter any further. She didn't even want to think about the possibility of Squall leaving them, leaving _her_ , without a word and with no wish to be found.  
It was painful enough to admit to herself that breaking up with Squall in the end had been harder on her than she would have thought.

During the fights and the proximity of death at all times, the tragedy of it all had intertwined them, making them fall in love and hold on to each other tight. Both of them could not have survived on their own. Squall had saved her when she was lost in space, and she had saved him when he was lost in time.  
They couldn't have known that they would not be able to last once peace had settled in. Once there was something like normality and a routine to their lives. Once all the ways in which they _didn't_ harmonize started to show.  
And still, with each passing day both of them could feel how they were slowly growing apart, slipping from each other's grasp, not able to maintain the desperate need to cling to each other.

It was a slow death to their feelings, yet faster from Squalls side than from hers it had seemed. Or so she felt.  
At that time there was a call for an ally to be on location in Galbadia, to help with the whole political chaos that had ensued after Deling's death, and since Irvine refused to go back to G-Garden they all had decided collectively that it would be best to send Rinoa.  
Squall had insisted to accompany her on her way back 'home', a last deed as her knight.  
On the outside, she was in tune with him, accepting that sometimes, dreams do not come true and knights are reserved for fairytales and love for people more deserving.  
But on the inside, it tore her apart.

Fury Caraway silently watched his daughter as she was lost in thought, going through the motions. He wanted to reach out to her, console her, knowing how it felt to be the one left behind, to ache for a loved one.  
But time and many ugly fights had carved a wide and dark chasm between him and Rinoa, rendering him powerless to comfort her the way he should.

Stifling a sigh full of regret, he crossed his arms in front of his chest.  
"I will see what I can do to make Biggs see reason and motivate him to further his efforts."  
He heard himself say into the silence that stretched on for what seemed like an hour.  
It was the least he could do.  
Leonhart might not be his daughter's happily forever after, but the man had done so much for all of them. And maybe, a small voice of hope whispered in his ear, going the extra mile might help to extend a hand to his daughter and settle the silent war that was raging between the both of them, far worse than a Galbadian War could ever turn out to be.

**Centra, Rachdale, Loneman's Harbour, late evening**

  
Much to his disdain, the shift at the bar threatened to become very slow, only few regulars and no newcomers showing up in the span of a few hours to occupy his mind or keep him from stealing glances.  
Seifer had taken to the bar again, getting drinks ready for the patrons, while Laiphra was her usual, beaming self, serving the guests and chatting away happily.  
The quiet, stoic figure sitting at the bar was a stark contrast to her and the general lighthearted mood in the room.  
Brooding as ever, Squall had sat down on the same chair as the night before, resuming almost the same exact pose, the only difference being that he didn't wear that weird uniform.

Unable to help himself, Seifer caught himself watching the brunet every other minute, making use of each idle moment the evening offered him, which were a lot, observing the younger man.  
At least he had been able to calm his mind, keep his thougths to the present and not dwindle down the dark corridors he had been flung down the night before.  
Instead, he tried to grasp what this entirely new situation had to offer.  
It wasnt that much different from the past either, if he was being honest. Squall sitting there like the whole world surrounding him was of no interest or matter to him, brooding over dark thoughts with furrowed brows and an otherwise blank expression to his pale face.  
He could just as much have been sitting in the B-Garden cantine.  
The mere thought stirred the old urge to provoke the brunet, to get those stubborn eyes to look at him, make the other focus on him instead of his own hands.  
"Want something to drink?" he hummed instead, having strolled over to the end of the bar and stopping where Squall sat.

Staleblue eyes looked up, this time much quicker than they had the night before, and a fine, dark brow quirked up ever so slightly.  
"I can't pay." the brunet repeated the words he had spoken to the redhaired woman the night before in a flat voice, shrugging for good measure to signal that he didn't care if he sat here without a drink.

As long as Seifer was manning the bar however, he wouldn't have such nonesense.   
If Laiphra let the Garden commander stay at the inn, he might as well give him something on the house.  
A playful smirk on his lips, the blond turned around and grabbed two glasses, filling them two thirds with one of their best whiskeys and placing one of them in front of the brunet, holding on to the other one himself.   
"Guess you owe me, then." 

The look on the brunet's face clearly said he wanted to be in nobodies debt, but realizing that he already was, the innkeep still needing to talk to him about how he could repay her, he shrugged again. Might as well indulge in a little alcohol. Having eaten earlier, it shouldn't be that bad on his head either.

Satisfied seeing Squall take a small sip of the dark golden liquid, Seifer did the same after silently raising the glass in the brunet's direction, continuing to study the man.  
Laiphra had brought him a bowl of stew and some warm bread earler, clearly in mother hen mode after encountering the lost young man. Squall had eaten everything at a slow pace, savouring every bite as if he hadn't had a proper meal in forever.  
All those little things made Seifer wonder what the hell had happened to the brunet to end up here, in this state.

"Enjoying yourselves?" Laiphra piped up beside them after a few minutes, giving the blond a look of ' _you are going to work that expensive stuff off_ ' when she saw the both of them indulging in her best whiskey.  
Not that she minded, really. But she knew if she went too soft on the blond, he would soon do what he wanted just to annoy her and get some fun out of it for himself.  
Her look was rewarded with a cocky grin that only confirmed her assumption.  
Taking up a rag and starting to clean up the counter, Laiphra let her eyes slowly wander over the sparsely crowded room.

"Tonight is slow. If you want, you can take the rest of your shift off, Zephyr." she hummed without looking at the tall blond. Not knowing how the both men knew each other or what to make of the whole situation, she was sure that the stranger needed help, even if he didn't ask. Having no money and no bearings when ending up in a place like Rachdale was a telltale sign of that.  
She did also notice that her barkeep could hardly keep his eyes off the brunet.  
Hoping she wasn't just enabling the man to get some fun for the night by allowing him to end his shift, she sighed. It was rather curious how similar the stranger looked to Daz, if only at the first glance. 

Seifer looked around like she did before, not unaware that this was probably his best chance to get a couple of hours alone with Squall and see where this whole ordeal would lead him.  
He wasn't yet sure if he wanted any of this, but he had always been a man of action, and his curiosity was piqued.  
"Thanks, Lai. I'll have Garkath send you some good stuff." he proclaimed, earning him a snort from the woman. The day the burly bear of a man would send her something free of charge she would dance on the bar counter.

Musing over what to do in light of his free time, the blond swished the dark golden liquor around in his glas, before downing it in one go.  
"So, what do you say, I could show you around town?" he finally said, cocking his head to see what the brunet thought of the offer.  
Couldn't hurt to at least help him find his way around.

Squall had quietly sipped on his drink every now and then, listening to the conversation the innkeep was having with the blond man. Proposed with a tour of the town, he hesitated just a moment before downing the rest of his whiskey in much the same manner as the other man, urged on by a weird feeling of having to keep up with him.  
"Okay." he agreed then, sliding off his chair.  
Seifer nodded, grabbing his jacket and putting it on, giving Laiphra a squeeze to her shoulder in passing to signal his thanks.

Watching the two men leave her bar, Laiphra smiled.  
The impression was uncalled for and yet somehow the picture of both of them leaving together seemed just... right.

**Centra, Rachdale, night**

  
Just like the night before, the streets of the small town were quiet when the both of them stepped outside.  
Darkness had long settled in, bringing the sound of nocturnal animals mixing in with the rushing of the sea and the soft whispering of the wind.  
The brunet crossed his arms over his chest to ward off some of the cold and let his gaze wander up and down the street before settling on the blond in front of him, following him down the set of stairs that led from the porch to the cobblestone path.

He wasn't sure what to expect, had spent most of the evening to come up with a way of questioning the man and get some answers, but he wasn't even sure what questions he should ask specifically. There was a weird sense of familiarity bewteen them, not alltogether friendly. The combination of annoyance welling up inside him ever so often paired with the underlying certainity that he knew the blond confused him.

It didn't go unnoticed that this was already the second time Squall was following his lead.  
As much as the brunet had matched up with him in sparring and bickering, or their stupid bets and competitions, Seifer also remembered a time before that, when the man was just a mere young teenage boy arriving at Garden after him. He had trailed along in the beginning very much like he did now, even picking up studying the same weapon as he the blond.

Breathing deeply, Seifer turned around to take the smaller man in, then he nodded down the road. "If you head there you'll soon reach the outskirts of Rachdale. Not much to see there except for some workshops and homes." he explained, before turning the other way, falling into a slow walk.  
He gestured to a couple of buildings around as Squall followed him, pointing out shops and other points of interest were one could purchase weapons, items, or food.  
"You might want to check out Milgraid's soon as well, he sells clothes and can even tailor you something."

Pointing at a lean building they passed, the brunet could see a small window displaying rather beat up looking mannequins donning outfits that looked surprisingly well made.  
Both consisted of linen and leather, obviously put together to be of practical use as the residents of the town were all workers and no one could much use any festive gowns.  
Yet there was no point in sparing any clothinhg items too much thought, the brunet decided, given that he had no money on him. And there was no way that he'd strike a deal with this Milgraid as well, piling on more debts.

His gaze wandered over the ramshakle buildings, crudely combined of wood, stone and metal, yet looking sturdy enough to brave the weather of the sea and even storms.  
"When Rachdale was built, it was just a cluster of tents. Most everybody here is a refugee. But they are hardworking people, even today everyone is dedicated to build this town up and make it a new home." he heard the blond continue, the words making the younger man hum thoughtfully.

"You fled the war too?" he asked, noticing the other man tense up for the briefest of seconds. Why did he ask that? It was none of his business and he didn't even intend to get into any personal matters, yet the question had slipped from his lips before he could stop himself.  
"No, I came here after." the blond replied finally, not elaborating on the how's and why's, making it clear that he didn't want to talk about it.  
Another hum from the brunet, then silence fell as they continued down the road and towards the docks that came into sight when they reached an opening that looked like a small market place.

The buildings here shrunk away and left an open space in the middle, and the center held a huge boulder with iron plates attached.  
Slowly making his way towards it, the brunet could soon make out that something was engraved in each of the small plates, yet the light was too dark to make out what they were saying.  
The other man caught up with him, burying his hands in the pockets of his slacks, not yet breaking the silence between them as he let his gaze wander over the monument too.

"It's a memorial. The names of people lost in the war.", Seifer finally murmured.  
For a long time, the sight of the boulder had been a stab to his chest, causing him to make detours just so he wouldn't have to go past the thing. Now he could at least stand here and not feel like he was about to faint from the sheer amount of guilt washing over him.  
His eyes caught a slender hand reaching out, fingertips gliding over one of the many metal plates. "I wonder if I knew any of them..." he could hear the soft voice of the brunet, so low it was almost inaudible.

Silence fell once again between the two of them, while Seifer let the other have a moment to dwell on his thoughts. When he saw him shiver, the blond realized that the idiot wasn't even wearing a jacket, standing out in the stark cold with just a longsleeve to shield him from the wind.  
He shrugged off his jacket unceremoniously and handed it to the other man.  
"Let's keep going." he urged, shoving the piece of clothing into the brunet's hands as he didn't make any move to take it.  
"What about you?" 

Seifer snorted, nodding to a small pathway leading away from the market place.  
"I'll be fine. We'll go to my place, there isn't much else to see here anyway."   
Falling into step again he pointed at the jacket. "Put it on."  
And, sure enough, Squall actually followed his order, if reluctantly.  
Time to mark some big, red crosses in his calendar, he mused with a slight grin on his lips while leading the way along the path until they soon enough reached the small iron gate that led into the courtyard of his home.  
"If you follow the road back there you'll get to the docks. I work there in the mornings." he explained for the sake of not leaving out any areas of the town and to help the other get around.  
What exactly was he doing here anyway?  
Did he have to bring Squall home to talk to him?  
He might as well have brought him back to the Loneman's Harbour and they could have talked there, plenty of room and no invading his home. Frowning slightly at the realization that he didn't mind too much, he went on to lead Squall up the stairs.

The jacket was still warm from when the other man was wearing it, and since he was taller the brunet was able to pull it around him snugly, effectively shielding him against the cold night wind that had picked up. It irked him that he had taken the thing and even put it on, part of him almost revolting against the order given to him, but he was freezing significantly by now and could not risk catching a cold, or worse, a fever.  
So the latter of two evils it was then.  
Silently following the taller man up a set of stairs and along a small hallway that was open to the little courtyard on the left handside, they finally reached the door to the other's apartment.  
He watched him slide in the keys and turn them to open up, then followed inside where he was greeted with a pleasant warmth.

While his host made his way straight into the living room, switching on lights on his way and vanishing somewhere deeper in the apartment, the brunet slowly stepped inside and took a moment to take in what he saw.  
Everything seemed comfortable and homey, very well kept too. Part of him had expected the inside to look as chaotic and haphazard as the outside, but the people of Rachdale seemed to take pride in making their interiors as welcoming as possible, at least from what he had seen so far.

"Want some coffee?" Seifer called from the kitchen, not sure if Squall was still standing at the front door as he couldn't hear any movement. Peaking around the corner he saw the other man standing in front of one of the bookshelves, still wearing his jacket, murmuring something that came close enough to 'yes', so he turned and started up the coffee machine.  
The whole situation weirded him out, having Squall of all people stand in his living room, not remembering his past or how the both of them had come very close to killing each other just a few months back. It was surreal.

The brunet let his gaze wander over the many different books lined up in the shelf, some more on the practical side offering information and tutorials to mechanics, others novels in different genres, and some magazines about weapons that seemed vaguely familiar to him.  
He was about to reach out and take one of them when he heard steps behind him, making him turn around and look up to the tall blond instead who offered him a hot mug of coffee.  
Taking it carefully, glad for the warmth spreading in his fingers, he hesitated a moment until he reluctantly met the gaze of jade green eyes.  
"So your name is Zephyr?"   
Trying to associate the sound of the name with something, anything, yet failing, it seemed ...wrong. There was no moment of recognition in him when he spoke the name and tried to connect it with this face, or the intent stare of green pools. And yet that name came close to stir something inside of him, as if he was close but not quite there.

Seifer frowned at the sound of the name that wasn't his, at least not really. Hearing it from the other man only furthered the alien feeling and he sighed, unable to answer the question.  
Instead he took a sip of the hot liquid, walking over to the couch and sitting down on one end, glad to be able to lean back and be out of the cold.  
He wanted to tell the brunet his true name, the one he had kept a secret from everyone living in Rachdale, in the futile hope that it would allow him to leave his past behind, shed his old skin and make him a new person.   
As much as it had helped to distance himself from the things he had done and start over with a fresh plate, not needing to fear anyone recognizing him if he played his cards cleverly, it still felt wrong.  
And it felt even worse to not disclose his actual name to Squall.

When he felt movement next to him he was surprised to see that the brunet had sat down on the other end of the couch, holding the mug of coffee delicately between pale fingers.   
The sight threw him back to easier days, when he would observe the younger man at whatever chance that offered itself. He had always thought Squall was pretty. Not handsome, that seemed too rough a word to describe the ice prince of Balamb. There had always been this air of grace and delicacy about the other, far from making him appear weak or untrained, yet enough to make him the center of attention, both positive and negative. Hell, it had even been enough of a trigger for Seifer to tease him on more than one occassion.

"You..." he began, trailing off as blue eyes instantly met his, sending a shiver up and down his spine. Seifer swallowed, then turned in his seat to face the other better.  
"Your name is Squall. Squall Leonhart.", he spoke lowly, at last offering an answer to a question the brunet had asked the night before.

Having figured out as much by now, Squall nodded slightly, looking down at his mug again to let the certainty settle in. So at long last he had a name he could associate himself with. It sill felt off somehow, mostly because it didn't have the effect that he had secretly hoped for. There was no rush of memories coming back to him, no sudden realization, no sense to be made of his predicament. Just a name. His name.  
"It feels weird." he finally admitted, unable to ban the vulnerable feeling from his voice that the realization gave him.

Seifer hummed softly, still staring at the brunet, a clenching feeling in his chest at the tone of the other man's voice. He had never seen him like this. There had never been a single moment in his life where he could remember Squall looking this lost, this vulnerable and helpless. He hated it, even more so since he knew that the proud lion of Balamb Garden would hate it all the more where he in possession of his memories.  
Features slowly turning into a grim expresion, he clenched his fist and closed his eyes for a moment, before releasing the breath he had been holding in a soft huff.  
"That's because it's a weird ass name." he offered, a smirk wisking away his frown. He might not be able to restore Leonhart's memories with a snip of his fingers but he could well treat him the same he always had.

Frowning at the unexpected attack on his name, Squall looked up at the blond man, confused. The other stared at him with a taunting look, as if he was expecting a retort, and sure enough the brunet could feel a jab of anger flare up in his chest when he regarded the smug expression on the other man's face.  
"Hardly as weird as _Zephyr_." he countered before he even noticed it, his words followed by a snort.

Smirk widening into a fullblown grin, Seifer chuckled and made a point of taking a long sip from his coffee. "If you say so, Squally."  
The familiarity of the friendly banter was overwhelming as realization struck that he had actually missed it, his mood only dampened by the fact that the familiar feel was hardly mutual right now.  
Hearing the brunet snort yet again, giving him the good old cold-shoulder-treatment and showing much more interest in his coffee mug, Seifer hummed contently, lifting his feet up on the coffee table, crossing his legs at the ankles. 

Unconsciously chewing on his lower lip, Squall tried to sort out the feelings the bickering had brought with it. When he had expected his name to bring him some sort of clarity, it seemed like the interaction had done a better job of it, even if there was still nothing more but a mere feeling of some sort of intimacy between the two of them.  
Furrowing his brows, he took his time to contemplate these new insights.  
"How do we know each other anyway?" it finally came from the brunet, the question the only logical follow up to him.

It gave Seifer a pause, grin slowly fading as he let the words linger between them, trying to figure out the best approach to their past. How much could he tell him? How much should he? Did he even want to go there at all?   
A once in a lifetime chance had presented itself right before him, that much had occured to the blond by now.  
If Squall didn't remember his past, then maybe Seifer could help him build a new, a better life without the pain and the suffering... without memories of the blond torturing him, or trying to kill him.  
It seemed selfish when he thought about it, but at the same time the sweet call of redemption was almost too hard to ignore.

"It's... complicated." he set to speak, pausing briefly to lean forward and place the now empty mug on the table.  
"We went to school together. To Garden."  
Squall watched him closely, he could feel the gaze of steel-blue eyes linger on him, once a clear sign for him to rally his wits and get ready to fight. Now it just drew his own gaze, requiting it.  
"That doesn't sound too complicated to me." the brunet replied, a smile tugging on the corners of his lips.  
Stifling a groan as he realized that he was admiring the bow of said lips, Seifer shook his head in amusement of himself. He was such a lost cause, wasn't he?  
"We fought a lot. Sparred. Riled each other up. We... we were rivals in the broadest sense."  
_Sure, in the broadest of senses. Damn Almasy, you are about to fuck up royally if you give into this idea._  
Mentally chastizing himself, it took him a moment to realize that Squall had set aside his mug as well, looking at him with raised brows.

None of what the blond told him struck any chord within Squall's mind as he tried to imagine the setting of a school that had its students spar. Must have been military then.  
The unlikely probability of running into his former sparring partner here at the end of the world dawned on him and he hummed, trying to imagine how such a sparring session might have played out. He wondered what weapons they had used, and if it had anything to do with the feelings of loss that overcame Squall whenever he touched the empty junction points on his dagger.  
Speaking of which, he realized he had left it in his room at the inn.

"Hyne be damned..." he heard the blond groan and looked up. The other man was staring at the window and now Squall noticed the steady pattering against the glass as well. It had started to rain.  
Standing up, the taller man went to look outside, then huffed and turned back around, striding across the room and heading through a door.   
Squall could hear some muttering and rummaging, then the blond returned, throwing a sweater at him.  
"Should be more comfortable than that jacket." he announced, then pointed at the window.  
"Looks like you're stuck here, there's a storm coming."

Feeling glad for the warm piece of clothing, though the chance of him admitting to it was slim, Squall got out of the jacket and pulled the dark brown sweater over his head. It was much too big, given how much smaller than the other man he was, but at the same time infinitely more comfortable. "Thanks." he murmured, gaze following the gesture towards the window which had started to rattle slightly as the wind outside picked up.

"Stay here tonight." Seifer heard himself say before his brain could catch on. Oh, this was great, a wonderful idea. What could possibly go wrong with him being stuck inside all night with Squall fucking Leonhart?  
Sighing, since he could hardly take his offer back now, he nodded towards the bedroom.  
"You can take the bed, I'll sleep on the couch."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, I'm sorry I am throwing in a new chapter each day, I kind of feel like spamming the fandom right now, haha.  
> I'm trying to tame myself and slow down a little to up my writing skills (better phrasing and more diverse vocabulary, for one).
> 
> As always, I'm happy for each and every reader and would love to hear what you think.  
> If you like, you can also check out my tumblr (hyperionswrath).
> 
> Stay safe and healthy <3


	5. My Name

* * *

"Do you think the universe fights for souls to be together? Some things are too strange and strong to be coincidences."

― Emery Allen

* * *

**Esthar City, President's Palace, morning**

With uncharacteristic force fists slammed down on the wooden table, sending a beam of pain through muscles used for signing treaties and other papers for far too long.  
Teeth clenched, jaw working and the entire body so tense it almost hurt, Laguna leaned heavily on the wooden surface, breath labored.  
His outbreak had been enough to make his secretary, sat outside his office behind a wall of glass, jump in her seat, now carefully eyeing the president from the safe distance of her desk.  
Not noticing nor caring what happened around him, the president of Esthar forced himself to breathe steadily, to calm down, to collect his nerves.  
Why was his whole life a pile of culminated loss of his loved ones?  
How could it be that there was always someone he loved in distress or danger, or, quite frankly, missing?

He couldn't believe what he heard when Rinoa screencalled him an hour ago.  
She had been insisting to make this appointment with him for a week, and admittedly he had put it off a little because dealing with the Galbadian politicians and their demands always gave him a major headache, but when he now learned that Squall had gone missing four months ago, it took him all of his composure to not lash out at the girl.

How had they not tried to call him right away? Or be more specific when they wanted a meeting?  
Why had there been no emergency meeting in the first place, no reaching out to him to help with the forces he had at the tip of his fingers, no nothing?  
Hands still shaking, he ran both of them through his hair, closing his eyes and trying to focus.  
He had to stay calm, to figure out what to do, and then plan on setting up a task force.  
Galbadia was hardly able nor willing to take the necessary steps to ensure his son would be found, that much was certain.

Finger slamming on the button on his phone, he opened the line to his secretary.  
"Lleora, call in Kiros and Ward. Immediately, please."  
"Yes, Mr. President." was her only answer, curt and without hesitation.  
To see Loire lose his temper like that could only mean there was trouble afoot, and she wouldn't want to get on his bad side when he was in such a foul mood.  
At least he didn't seem too far gone to overgo his good manners.

The young blonde brushed a strand of long hair behind her ear and turned to her computer, locating the whereabouts of the men with a few deft clicks, before reaching for her phone again to make the assigned calls.

Huffing, Laguna slowly sank back down into his office chair, leaning back to stare at the high ceiling of his office that was easily large enough to be considered a throne room.  
Sometimes it was hard to distinguish night from day in this hyne-bedamned city, but almost nineteen years got him used to it. Right now though he would have given everything to lie under the blue skies of Winhill, surrounded by flowers, close to his late wife's grave to find some comfort.

His thoughts wandered back to the days after the war when he had sent word to meet up with Squall in the little sleepy town in Galbadia.  
The more rational part of his brain had told him there was no chance that the young man would follow his invitation, no matter if it came from the Estharian President himself.  
Of course he had refrained from showing off his titles in any way, instead signing the invitation simply with his name.

To his pleasant surprise, the boy had joined him. Not very happily, that much seemed certain, but then again it was difficult to read any kind of emotion on that always sulking face.  
It had been an awkward conversation and not long into it Laguna had realized that his son was a troubled young man. Certainly not the worst kind, but the poor boy had seen enough in his young life to have him close up to everything that might end up hurting or disappointing him. And that included the idea of a father. It included _him_.

Coming to terms with this had not been an easy task. When he learned from Ellone that he had a son, that Raine had born him a child, he had been so unbelievably happy and full of love for the kid. He still was to this day, but the walls Squall had pulled around him didn't give him any chance to show him how important he was to him, and how badly Laguna wanted to get to know him.  
With time and patience, so the president had hoped, he would be able to slowly build up a trustful relationship with the brunet, making him see that not all the world was bad and out to hurt him.

And now he was gone.

Just when fists balled up again, ready to punch something anew, there was a brisk rapping on the door prefacing its opening and wide strides approached his desk.  
Slowly opening his eyes, Laguna saw the slim figure of Kiros, draped in the Estharian Council's robes, studying his face with that intense stare of his. Right behind him, huge and mute, stood Ward clothed in a similar fashion.

"My friends..." Laguna sighed, unable to keep a fond smile from playing on his lips when he saw both of them. They had stuck by his side all his life and he would be forever thankful for them. Just the thought of having to face the current predicament without their aid and consolation made him feel sick.

"Thank you for coming here so quickly."  
Ward made a curt gesture with a large hand, which Kiros acknowledged with a nod.  
"It sounded urgent. What happened?"  
Not waiting for an invite to do so, they had been over these pleasantries before they even started once Laguna was president, Kiros pulled a chair closer and sank down, silently gesturing Ward to do the same.

If the chancellor knew anything about his friend, then that the expression on his face was rather unusual. To be exact, he only had seen this face two times in his life:  
When Ellone was kidnapped, and when Raine died.  
A tight, cold knot formed in the lean man's chest at the thought of his friend's just found son being dead. It had to be about him, nothing else would be able to shake the man so much.

And sure enough, Laguna finally spoke.  
"Squall has disappeared."  
Slowly the man leaned forward in his chair, bringing his elbows to the polished wooden table, rubbing his face with his hands and keeping it hidden behind his palms after. Sunk into himself like this silence fell, only disturbed by the sounds of the metropolis outside.  
He was obviously distressed and that was probably the most worrisome about the whole situation.

Ward gestured again, followed by Kiros nodding.  
"No word? Just gone?" he asked and, when Laguna nodded, he followed up "...what about Garden?"  
More moments of silence passed, forcing every quench of patience out of the energetic man who had a hard time sitting still, for if it was his decision, he would already have mobilized half of the Estharian Army to go find this kid, just so he didn't have to see his friend like this anymore.

"They contacted Caraway, trying to use his connections and the Galbadian intel since he was last seen in Dollet." Laguna finally explained, placing his slightly shivering hands on the table, looking at the two men sitting opposite of him.  
Kiros noticed that he looked significantly older than he remembered.  
"I doubt we can count on them, given that Squall played a crucial part in the war and especially in the events that also lead to the current unrests."

Ward nodded slowly, now crossing his massive arms over his chest, a clear sign that he was thinking things over and not willing to add anything further to the conversation until he came up with either something useful or something consoling.  
The man next to him meanwhile leaned forward, catching the gaze of blue eyes that looked terribly tired and weary.  
"And you don't want to send out any troops to prevent the political situation worldwide to escalate any further." he guessed, followed by another nod.  
As much as people might have thought Laguna was not befitting to be the president of Esthar, he had shown incredible subtlety and skills in diplomacy in the years he reigned the state.

From the corner of his eye, Kiros caught more gestures from Ward again, making him turn and observe the other quietly. "Yes, indeed.", looking back to Laguna, he pointed at his laptop.  
"We are Esthar. The nation with the best-developed technology worldwide. Let's make use of that."

**Rachdale, Seifer's Apartment, morning**

The heavy pattering of rain against a window came into awareness first. The pain of lying in a weird and uncomfortable position on a way too small couch came next, followed by a groan. Carefully, Seifer stretched out his legs over the end of the sofa, feeling his muscles strain and, if his ears did not betray, joints pop.  
This whole ordeal must have been his stupidest idea yet, he had to give that to himself.

It had been clear that Squall would not be able to return to the inn without getting soaked and possibly blown out to the sea as the storm had picked up, and for some reason that was absolutely beyond him, Seifer had cared about that.  
Must have been that lost puppy-dog-look the brunet seemed to have discovered for himself lately, no doubt.

Throwing an arm over his eyes the blond tried to keep from overthinking the whole situation too much, decidedly ignoring that nagging voice in the back of his head that kept telling him Leonhart was sleeping in his bed. Right now.  
With the probability of sleep gone for good, he slowly got up, shuddering at the freezing cold that had set in overnight. It also didn't look much better outside, the wind was still whipping up the sea and bending the trees and _why the hell did he think of Squall when he imagined the words bending and whipping?!_

Thankful to be disturbed from these alienating thoughts by the ringing of his cell he picked up the phone from where he had put it on the coffee table when he was already half asleep last night.  
"Morning Garkath." he greeted the caller, padding into the kitchen to get his fix of caffeine ready.  
"Could use ya hand, son." Getting to the point without beating around the bush, just like Seifer knew him. He hummed, thinking of the other man still sleeping in his bed.  
"Jus' some bit heavy loadin' and gettin' things tucked up, that storm is a wild one she is. Also will be 'round for 'nother day I s'pose."

Adding ground coffee into the machine and starting it up, Seifer leaned against the counter and nodded silently to himself. In this weather they would hardly work more than a couple of hours, and only to secure the docks and the wares in the storage.  
"Sure thing, I'll be there within the hour." he agreed, reminding himself he needed the money since he already messed up one day of work.  
With just a grunt of acknowledgment, Garkath hang up on him.

Sometimes he admired the no-nonsense approach of the old man, getting straight to the point and not fussing about, also not meddling too much with other people's business.  
And that was the point when it dawned on Seifer who exactly that reminded him of.  
Good gracious Hyne, how could everything in his life center so much around a pesky, annoying little brunet?!  
Biting down a frustrated curse, the blond made to cleaning up the leftover mugs from the days before, setting one of them aside for his coffee.

While the machine was still occupied with brewing the hailed liquid black gold, Seifer's steps slowly led him into the bedroom. His plan had been to fetch some clothes and be out of here ASAP so he could get this irritating train of thoughts out of his head with some good hard work, but when he stepped inside, his gaze was immediately drawn by the figure buried underneath his blanket.

Squall was still fast asleep, the duvet pulled up to under his chin, his nose nuzzled into the pillow and chocolate brown strands falling into his pale face, long dark lashes resting on milky white skin, lips parted slightly.  
The blond smirked at the sight, not quite able to connect the fully relaxed expression and calmness with his lifetime rival.  
Who would have thought the guy was even able to look this serene? He would have taken bets that Leonhart even scowled when he slept.  
Without having noticed it, he had stepped closer, now slowly bending down until he was kneeling beside the bed and able to get a closer look at that pretty face.

It must be hard, not knowing who you are, he mused, a hand reaching out all on its own, fingertips gently brushing away strands of hair. He himself had deliberately decided to leave his past behind, he had had a choice. But forgetting everything, being all alone and with nowhere to go, it seemed to cruel a fate, especially for the Lion of Balamb who had carried so many burdens already.

Only when a small sound fled from the brunet's lips did Seifer notice that he had started to softly caress the other's cheek with his thumb, immediately recoiling.  
What the hell was wrong with him?  
Swallowing hard against the lump in his throat he silently got up, hand brushing through his golden hair as he turned to the wardrobe. He couldn't let this happen again and he would stop himself before it got that far.   
Since he was the only person Squall had seemed to find so far, he would help him to get his bearings and nudge him to the right direction, which would be Balamb, so the man would soon be in the arms of his loving friends again, his main concern being that Squall needed to be as far away from him as possible.

Managing to grab a dark grey woolen pullover and a pair of old, dark jeans along with a black beanie, he quietly left the room again, carefully leaning the door so as not to disturb the sleeping ice prince.  
He then proceeded to take a shower and wash, followed by a shave, mind set to not go to these places of unwarranted longing again.

Dressed up and a mug of coffee in hand, he stood leaned against his kitchen counter while drinking, his gaze resting on a memo pad and pen close by.  
After pondering a couple of minutes, he finally reached out and jotted down a couple of lines in neat, tidy handwriting.

_I was called to the docks, got a couple of hours of work to do._   
_Make yourself at home._   
_Coffee's in the kitchen._   
_If you leave, pull the door close tightly._

Stopping in time to prevent signing the thing with his real name, he left it the way it was, ignoring the fact that he wrote 'if' and not 'when'.  
This was so stupid.  
Seifer emptied his mug and placed it in the sink, grabbed the note, and returned to the bedroom to place it next to sleeping beauty before he retreated again, grabbing the beanie in passing from the coffee table.

He hated wearing the thing but didn't want to risk the wind blowing his hair out of his face, making his scar show.  
With a last glance over his shoulder, he slipped into his boots, zipped them up, and then fetched his keys to leave.

**Rachdale, Seifer's Apartment, early noon**

Sleep had claimed him with a heavy grip only laid on those that have been tired and exhausted for too long and finally find a place of comfort and safety to truly recuperate.  
At first, the proposal of being offered a place to stay for the night had caused the by now familiar stir of protest inside of him, but he soon had to admit that he wouldn't be able to get back to the inn without risking at least a cold, if not worse.

Still, it felt inexplicably weird to stay with the same man that had fled his presence mere hours ago. But whatever it had been that had spooked the other, it seemed to have subsided enough for them to be able to actually hold a conversation that gave the brunet at least a few answers. Although he was still missing clarity on his situation, or his past for that matter.

Slowly starting into awareness, Squall stretched his limbs slowly and delicately, confused about his surroundings for a brief moment. The bedsheets smelled oddly familiar for a second, causing him to frown, but when he opened his eyes and gazed around sleepily, the memories of why he was here came to him again.

Sighing, he sat up, his hand grazing a piece of paper lying next to him. Reading it, his frown deepened slightly, then he quirked an eyebrow at the words written there.  
 _Make yourself at home._  
He scoffed, putting the note on the bedside table almost knocking over a small bottle standing there, catching it just in time to stop it from tumbling over and behind the small furniture.  
Still half-dazed, he looked down at it, brows furrowed to focus on what it said.  
Finally _realizing_ what he was holding in his hand a furious blush flushed his cheeks and he quickly set it aside again, coughing nervously as if he was scared someone had actually seen him holding a bottle of lube.  
Who the hell left something like this standing around openly?!

With a brisk shake of his head, the brunet stood up, stretching again, glancing at the window where the day didn't seem much more promising than the night before.  
The sky was utterly dark, the wind still pressing relentlessly against the glass, causing the raindrops to whip against it ferociously.  
He could only hope it would calm down soon, otherwise, he would be stuck here for much longer than he anticipated.

Sighing again he decided to make use of the promised coffee, slowly padding into the living room that made the centerpiece of the apartment.  
It was oddly quiet, almost calm here, reminding him of the time he had spent in the small village under the earth.

Feeling bashful to roam through another person's home without them being present, he gently pushed open one of the adjacent doors and found it to lead to the small bathroom. The next door led him to the kitchen, where he stood undecidedly looking about.

It was nice and tidy, all dark wood and clear, wine red surfaces he wouldn't have expected to find in a place like Rachdale.   
Sure enough, he found the coffee machine was still on, apparently set to keep the coffee heated. A clean mug was standing next to it, along with a small cup of sugar and a spoon as well as a pack of milk.  
Frowning, he wondered how the blond knew how he liked his coffee and decided to ask him later. That was if he ran into him again.

Being all set up with caffein, he made his way back into the living room, sipping on the warm beverage while his gaze was drawn by the bookshelves once more, studying the interesting collection that had already caught his eye the night before.  
He randomly pulled out a couple of books, inspecting titles and back texts, then moved on to a couple of magazines that poked his interest.

Filing through a random edition of the "Battle Series", he couldn't shake the feeling that he had read that one before.  
It didn't help him much in terms of memory recollection, but it was a nice thing knowing that apparently, he must have been an adamant reader of the series and interested in the here described battle tactics.

At least poking through the literature at hand he could kill some time while he waited for the storm to subside.

**Rachdale, the docks, noon**

"Heave! Heave like yer own mother was hangin' up there boys!"  
While the cheering the bear of a man barked over the howling wind and crashing waves couldn't really motivate Seifer for obvious reasons, he still grinned at the flowery choice of words. Garkath was perched up on a ladder, a tow wrapped around his massive arm and clutched in his fist while he steadied the last crate they were lifting to the upper storage floor.  
It had turned out to be quite the challenge to get all the crates up there with the wind tearing at the sides of the wooden blocks, making them hard to navigate and harder to hold.

The construction of tows and pulleys held steady enough, but Seifer wasn't sure if they would have been able to move another crate judging by the miserable creaking the hinges wailed out with every pull they made.  
With one final combined effort, the men landed the final crate on the upper floor, Garkath securing the tows up top.

Now even in the event of the sea spilling over the docks and flooding the storage room, the wares would be safe.  
Brushing droplets of rain from his face with one hand, the blond watched the huge man decent the ladder and stroll up towards his subordinates, nodding at each of them approvingly.

"Good work ye lot. I fear that'd be all for today. Let's hope the storm settles come 'morrow."  
Clapping his big hands to signal the end of their shift, Garkath ordered one of the younger boys to make sure the gates of the storage were closed up properly.  
"'Tis good ta see yer bein' yer old self again, son." the grumbled warmly, patting Seifer on the back. The old bear would never say it, let alone show it, but he cared deeply. Sometimes too much, for the blond's taste, but he had learned to appreciate it.

"It's complicated. But I'll figure it out, old man." Seifer nodded, grinning at the other as they made to leave the storage. Behind them, the boy shut the gates as ordered to, and Garkath nodded towards his office.  
"Gotta get some more soddy paperwork done, but if ya need ta talk, you know where to find me." he said, turning around and leaving the blond without waiting for a reply.

In the beginning, Seifer would have believed it to be just a shell of words, given that the rough man seemingly showed no real interest and only talked big, but after a while he had learned to read the other man. He wasn't big on showing emotions, but he would always listen when someone needed it, and he had always a bottle of whiskey at the ready too. 

Soaked through and through, the blond was in no mood to hang around the docks any longer than necessary so he made his way back to his apartment, looking forward to a hot shower, dry and warm clothes, and something to eat.  
Only when he reached his front door he remembered who he had left inside.  
Frowning, he wondered if Squall had actually left.

Sliding the key into the door and opening it, he carefully slipped out of his muddy boots and put them aside to dry before he'd clean them. The soaked jacket was hung on a separate hanger waiting for that occasion, as pouring rain was no rarity in Centra, especially this close to the sea.

Halting to listen closely, he tried to make out if someone was still in his apartment, but since he couldn't hear anything, he shrugged and decided that Squall must have actually left and braved the storm to go back to the inn. Probably for the better.

He peeled off his wet pullover and jeans unceremoniously, gathering everything up in his arms and heading straight to the bathroom, where he placed both over the radiator to dry.  
Then he removed the rest of his clothes and hopped under the shower, enjoying the hot water warming his freezing limbs, banishing the cold soon enough.  
The blond indulged in the heat a while longer than actually necessary, then slipped out to towel off and wrap one of the bigger towels around his waist.

Lost in thought one hand ran through his blond strands, slicking his wet hair back, and as he passed the couch he almost froze in place.

Squall was lying there, spread out on the sofa, a book on his chest held by one hand, fast asleep.  
Slowly Seifer stepped closer, watching the peaceful picture, the soft rising and falling of the chest, the incredible calmness the entire display radiated.  
Even this morning the brunet had not looked this much at peace as he seemed now.

Shaking his head to free himself of his stupor, Seifer turned to head into the bedroom, grabbing and putting on a comfortable pair of black sweatpants and a white shirt, before he returned to the side of the couch, looking down at the display.

There were a couple of magazines spread around, most of the "Battle Series", which had the blond smirk. Old habits died hard, it seemed. He could still recall spotting the ice prince all absorbed in these, sitting under some random tree far off from the crowded places at Garden. Of course, he couldn't let the other be then, he wouldn't be ignored for a piece of print, so he always had used the opportunity to start a fight with Leonhart.

Other magazines were in the mix on the coffee table too, Weapon's Weekly being one of them, featuring the gunblade. Humming, Seifer looked at it and then over to Squall, wondering if he had remembered his weapon of trade through the magazine.  
He was about to start putting the mess away into it's designated place when his gaze fell on the cover of the book the brunet had been reading before falling asleep.  
"The Sorceress' Knight"

A cold tingle ran through his limbs and he shuddered, not because he saw the book - he had bought the edition himself after all - but because he feared that maybe this very piece of literature might recall memories best left untouched, at least as long as possible.  
Seifer swallowed, forcing himself to stay calm. The brunet would hardly have fallen asleep if the story had brought him any unsettling remembering of the past.  
He leaned down and gently took the book, slipping in from underneath the slim hand.

Started by the movement, eyelids fluttered and a soft sound announced the younger man was waking up.   
"Good morning, sunshine." Seifer couldn't help to tease as dazed eyes found his figure and the brunet sat up quickly, rubbing his face.  
"Had a nice day, I see." the blond continued, unwilling to show any distress about the choice of literature.

It took Squall a moment to gather his thoughts and realize that he had, indeed, fallen asleep again. Somehow the past weeks had taken a bigger toll on him than he had anticipated and his body seemed to welcome every chance to rest up and get some recovery from the strains.  
"Best as I could." he murmured, hand brushing some brown strands out of his face when he slowly turned to look up to the blond.

He remembered being intrigued by the book the taller man was now holding and decided when he got stuck inside due to the stormy weather, he might as well indulge himself in a little reading. Soon enough he was enraptured with the story, only his eyes growing tired at some point until he must have passed out.  
But now that he saw the cover of the book again, something tugged at his memory.

"Any chance you're named after the knight of the story?" he asked bluntly, now that he remembered that he indeed had wanted to ask the blond about it. " _Zefer_?"  
And in speaking the name out loud, gazing up to meet jade green eyes with a teasing look but instead finding slicked back blonde hair and a scar on the man's forehead, he felt something shift inside him.

Suddenly there were brief moments in his mind, flashing up in quick succession, of a young tall man with short blond hair, slicked back accurately, leering down at him as he sat under a tree, staring at him from across a cafeteria, brushing hard against his shoulder in passing in a hallway, fighting him with a gunblade in a sparring match, until fire flared up and a stinging pain flamed through Squall's head which he countered immediately.

Accompanied by the caleidoscope of what seemed to effectively be memories of his past, his name resounded inside his mind.

Zephyr

Zefer

_....Seifer...._

  
"...Seifer...."

The blond stood frozen in place at the question, thoughts racing. He hadn't even drawn the most obvious conclusion that whoever read that book would come across the inspiration for his new name. Squall was too intelligent to overlook such detail, and he had seemingly connected the dots in his absence.  
But before Seifer could even open his mouth in a witty reply, he could practically see the shifting in the eyes of the brunet, realizing his second mistake too late: He had forgotten to brush his hair into his face.

And sure enough, the combination of his appearance, the sight of the scar, and possibly also the just uncovered name connection seemed to do something to Squall.  
He could practically witness the process unraveling behind those staleblue eyes, even imagined a kind of recognition that hadn't lived there those past few days when he had looked at him.

Next, he heard his name, his true name, whispered from the other man's lips, for the first time in what felt like forever. It made him shiver.  
Slowly he sank on his knees in front of the brunet, the book finding it's place on the coffee table as he searched those pale blue eyes, and they in return searched his, gazes locked for a long moment until soft, cold fingertips gently touched his cheek, shying away briefly, before connecting with his skin again more distinctly.

Seifer resisted the urge to lean into the touch, but closed his eyes for a moment, allowing himself to indulge in the probing strokes as if the brunet tried to help spur on his memories further by touching him.  
"I know you..." he breathed close to inaudible, now placing fingertips against the scar between his eyes, letting them slowly travel along its softly protruding tissue. A strange feeling coiled inside of Seifer at the touch that seemed way too intimate, way too close between the two of them, and he opened his eyes to look at Squall again.  
"I did this." the brunet said, with certainty, blinking as his hand was taken by one of the other man's, gently removing it to stop the touch.  
"Because _I_ did _this_." Seifer said lowly, nodding towards the other's forehead.

This entire situation got weirder by the minute and he was absolutely not sure what to think of it. He had expected for Squall to jump to his feet and that the only connection his hand would make with his own face would be in form of a fist, but not this almost loving caress he received.

Not pulling away, their faces only mere inches from each other, Squall nodded, barely visible, gaze wandering all over the blond's face as if wanting to remember every little detail, to make sure he wouldn't forget any of it again. Seifer wished he wouldn't, not with the truth of what happened between them still not uncovered for the brunet, but he somehow couldn't escape those steelblue eyes that seemed to always be able to entrap him in some way.

"I remember us going to Garden together... our fights... but also how we studied together and... how you were somehow... always there."

The words struck something inside of Seifer and he clenched his teeth, feeling a pain of loss he thought he had left behind long ago.   
Yes, he had always been there somehow. Even if just as a teasing and provoking shadow, he had made sure the younger one would be prepared for the world outside. He had wanted to make sure he was strong, and ready, and able.

"Seifer, I-"  
"No one can know." the blond interrupted immediately when Squall used his name once more, intent burning in sea-green eyes as Seifer stared at the smaller man in front of him, squeezing the wrist he was still holding slightly. "Do you understand?"  
Confusion in grey-blue eyes, brows twitching upwards slightly, and a soft shake of the head.   
"But you are...?" Squall set to say, breaking off at the thought that his mind had somehow messed things up in the end, and all that he thought he just uncovered was just another mix-up. He couldn't be wrong, could he?

Seeing the unrest rising in the other's eyes, the blond fell silent for long moments, then he finally nodded.  
“I used," he said, and then took a sharp breath, "to be called Seifer.”  
The confirmation weighed heavy on him, but as much as he wanted to deny it, Squall deserved to know the truth and he wouldn't lie to him if he openly asked.  
"But no one here can ever know." he repeated again, voice firm.  
"I... I did some horrible things." the addendum to his words came without him thinking about it and he finally let go of the brunet, making to stand up and turning away when he was abruptly stopped by a hand grabbing his shirt and holding on tight to him.

Held in place like this, his surprised gaze found that Squall was looking up to him with an expression in his eyes the blond had never seen before. Was he afraid?  
"Please stay."  
Only a couple of months ago he wouldn't have thought a display like this possible, and if he had, he would probably have gotten off on the thought. But the way the whole scene played out now, he could only feel this coiling sensation inside of him again which he couldn't quite place.

Slowly turning back around, he nodded and stepped past the brunet to sink down on the sofa next to him. All of this felt so unreal.  
"I'm probably not the best person for you to be around, Squall." the taller man hummed lowly, his gaze fixed on his hands, fingers slightly fidgeting to be occupied. His fingertips still seemed to tingle from where he had touched the other before, as did his cheek and scar.  
He wanted more of that, and that in and on itself was dangerous.

"I don't care." Stubbornness the ever reoccurring trade of Balamb's ice prince, even in the light of amnesia. It was enough to make Seifer chuckle softly.  
"Right now, you are the only person that made me remember _anything_ and I will be damned if I let you walk away."  
Just now, at the exclamation of the brunet did Seifer realize how much the other man was suddenly talking. Yesterday he had been so very much like his old self and now he seemed... not different, but at the very least, less stuck within his own head.  
Maybe, the blond figured, it was too cramped in there with all the chaos and now the added recurring memories.

Sighing, he looked up to see that Squall had turned around to face him, staleblue eyes trained on him with much the same intent he had shown the other moments before.  
"I can hardly walk away from my own home, I'd rather throw you out." he heard himself tease and a smirk played his lips.  
Snorting, he could see the old familiar sight of a scowl form on those pretty features and he grinned, cocking an eyebrow at the other man. 

And in the breath of a moment, as if he was simultaneously ejected from his own body as well as hyperaware of it, he closed the distance between them, his body leaning forward, and his lips brushing Squall's.


	6. Beautiful

* * *

He's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.  
\- Emily Brontë

* * *

**Balamb Garden, schoolyard, five years ago**

  
Standing under a group of trees, engulfed in their lush canopies' shadows, unseen and not intending to change it anytime soon, the gaze of intense eyes lingered on the slender frame sitting beneath an oak tree on the other side of the yard.  
Slim hands in black leather held a magazine, pale blue eyes fixed on the pages, absorbing them.

While some students dared to try and greet the lonesome figure, they would never get a reaction other than a frown, or scowl, and at most a cold glare.  
The entirety of the young cadets being seemed surrounded by a cool air and unparalleled indifference practically screaming in everyone's faces to leave him alone.  
And they did.  
At some point, even the instructors had learned to stop trying to get the boy out of his shell, the only way to get a decent answer - or an answer at all - being to ask him practical questions related to the study material. In that, he was impeccable.  
Social skills, not so much.

A hand rose up, absentmindedly brushing brown strands of hair out of his face, then turning a page, smoothing it out gently with gloved fingers.  
Sunlight caught the silver lion pendant for the briefest moment, reflecting in the pale blue's, adding glaciers of ice to the sea storm within.

It was only in those moments that Squall Leonhart, the Lion of Balamb, wore a somewhat somber and relaxed expression, yet disturbed by the tenseness of being attentive to what he was reading, sometimes furrowing his brows when he came across a particularly interesting bit of information.

Unbeknownst to Fujin and Raijin, this had become one of Seifer's favorite pastimes once he had figured out what Leonhart was doing on his Sundays.  
Others would call standing around staring at other people boring, creepy even, but he couldn't care less.   
The subject of his curiosity was way too interesting to let the opportunity pass.  
And the little clearing inside the group of trees had turned out to be the perfect little hiding place, leaving him just enough out of sight to not be noticed by Leonhart and giving him the perfect excuse should someone notice him: The Disciplinary Committee was keeping a watchful eye on the schoolyard, no questions asked.

Arms crossed over his chest, the blond barely dared to blink, basking in the ignorance of the other man, waiting.  
In the beginning, he could hardly stop himself from waltzing over and disturbing the little shit's peace, but after a while he had noticed how very enticing it was to just stay out of sight and study the many tiny expressions showing on Squall's face when he thought he was by his lonesome.

After a while it wasn't very hard to distinguish different stages of brow-furrowing as either frustration, confusion, or even disgust, or to notice the rare occasions when the corners of his mouth would twitch just so, revealing amusement.  
Squall wasn't really as reserved as people made him out to be, they just couldn't deal with his way of handling things, the world, the people in it, and they sure as hell had no patience to learn the workings of the young man.  
The micro-reactions he did show were there for the taking, and Seifer had so much _fun_ applying his new-found knowledge in real-life situations. Such as riling the brunet up during class so he could get a rise out of him, and at best, a sparring session.

That in and on itself was a whole other thing, though.  
Sparring with Leonhart had two plus sides:  
For one, the brunet was the only other student with a gunblade, thus the only one Seifer could really train with. And after he had whipped him in shape, Squall seemed determined enough to overcome him that he turned out to be a formidable sparring partner. It was _fun_ fighting him.  
On the other hand, there was just something about the guy when he was all panting and sweating in that hyne-bedamned tight leather. Eyecandy Seifer saw as the treat it was and indulged in it whenever he could. Thus he probably bickered more with the brunet than was normal.

He had never had much care for definitions of sexuality, at some point he had simply noticed that he not only liked girls but also boys. Boys maybe a little bit more than girls even, but he didn't much care who he was kissing, and later also fucking.   
And that was that.  
Ever since he was a kid he never gave a Grat's ass what other people thought of him, and this was no different. Garden also didn't really leave much room for anything relationship-y, and his mind was set to other topics such as gunblades, and novels, and training to become a SeeD, so his infatuation with Leonhart had turned out to be an all-around lucky coincidence.  
Of course, he had to be attracted to a walking icicle who would never be game to wind down together after a sparring session, such was just his luck.

Pulling himself back into the present moment, Seifer carefully rolled his shoulders, otherwise not moving, aware that the time window to head over and annoy the brunet drew short, as the other never stayed longer than two hours.  
Just when he had decided to step out of the small clearing, he stopped dead, blinking at what he saw.  
The softest, prettiest quirk of lips had sneaked on the pale features his eyes were trained on, for the briefest of heartbeats stretching into an actual, honest smile.  
That was the moment Seifer Almasy knew he was fucked.

**Rachdale, Seifer's Apartment, afternoon**

  
The very same lips the blond had admired that day were now locked with his, as time seemed to have stopped, the both of them fallen out of this world and into some parallel universe as it sometimes happens when these connections of a very special kind occur.

Squall had not even realized what was happening as the tall blond leaned over him, one arm bracing on the backrest of the couch, one hand slipping under his chin, dipping it up ever so slightly, and then warm lips had already brushed against his, first almost accidental, as if to put a year-long theory to the test.  
It felt like a sizzling shock where they both touched, sending a rough shiver down Squall's spine, making his fingers claw into the seat of the couch.

Never had Seifer expected the brief touch of mouths to be so otherworldly, sending an explosion of feelings through his body and into his brain.  
He had almost backed out of his mindless action, causing his lips to only brush against Squall's ever so slightly, but as they _did_ he felt his mind go blank for a hot minute.  
Immediately he leaned in further, locking their lips with more intent, gently nipping at the soft flesh, wanting more of this incredible sensation.  
He had never in his life started a kiss so chaste and timid, losing himself in the gentlest of touch, just playful enough to slowly coax the other to return the kiss.

Unable to form a clear thought about what was actually happening, his body seemingly having a mind of its own, Squall felt himself leaning into the other's touch slightly, a soft sigh fleeing from his lips into the taller man's mouth as he started luring him deeper. Encouraged by the sound, Seifer gently sucked in the other's lower lip, his hand sliding into Squall's neck, fingers softly playing with brown strands of hair before he pulled him closer, causing the brunet to brace himself by placing his hands against his chest, without pushing him away, fingers instead curling into the fabric of his shirt.

Growing bolder, Seifer let the tip of his tongue flick over soft, quivering lips, surprised to feel them giving way, parting slightly to allow him inside.  
Not thinking twice about it he obliged, exploring the other's mouth, letting their tongues glide along each other, dancing slowly, almost languidly.  
Meanwhile, his arm was of not much use on the backrest, he decided, and instead snaked it around Squall's waist, sinking back against the couch and pulling the brunet with him until he straddled his lap.

The prettiest little noise came from the brunet as he suddenly found himself in even closer proximity to the blond as before, his hands automatically grasping for purchase on the other man's shoulders.   
For once since he had come to, there were no thoughts, no chaos, no questions, nothing close to the unrest he had to endure since then in his head, only this sizzling, tingling feeling and the undeniable familiarity of Seifer's presence.

Only when breathing became an issue, the blond retreated a bit, not yet willing to end the kiss entirely, but instead managing to get some air into his lungs by switching back to playing with those incredible lips that felt so soft and so _right_ against his.  
Yet reality had started to creep back into his mind, for one because his body started to react to the closeness of the brunet's body and the undeniable sexiness of the current situation, but also because there was the matter of his conscience he could not much longer push aside.

"I... shouldn't be doing this...", he mumbled into the kiss, unable to stop, biting gently into the lower lip and catching it for a moment, before letting go and placing another, soft kiss on Squall's lips.  
"...why...?", he heard the other breathe, leaning in to follow him as he tried to break away, sealing both their lips for another couple of minutes, distractingly enough that Seifer wasn't able to even think about the question or an answer for that matter. 

Finally, after long minutes he gently pushed the smaller frame of the brunet back to look into those stale-blue eyes. He had to bite down a moan as he saw the dilated pupils, the blushed cheeks, and reddened lips.   
"I told you..." he said lowly, in his voice the shadow of a growl he knew all too well. It spoke of _want_ and _need_ and both of it _right now_ if you please.  
But he couldn't do that, it was impossible to go that far.  
"...I did some terrible things. A lot, in fact."

Heart fluttering in his chest and mind almost blank, a craving inside his body he had never felt before, Squall cocked his head to the side, lifting one hand to let cool fingertips brush against the warm skin of Seifer's jaw, traveling along and then curving up to follow the slight bow of his lips.  
He felt strangely alienated by their closeness, yet it didn't feel wrong either which begged the question of why the blond seemed to think this a bad idea. And what exactly was it that he had done?

"It's not really any of my business." the brunet mumbled at last, a slightly annoyed furrow to his brows.  
It was enough to make Seifer laugh dryly, no real amusement in the tone of his voice when he heard those signature words that seemed to be so engrained in Squall's personality, not even amnesia could wipe them from his tongue.  
The softness between them, the closeness and intimacy made Seifer's chest ache, only strengthening his resolve.  
"But it is." he replied, running the back of his hand over a flushed cheek.  
He couldn't do this. It was wrong, and sick to play on Squall's memory loss just to get what he had desired for so long. He couldn't stand the thought of defiling his former rival by kissing him, touching him, or... going even further than that.

"I overstepped a boundary today and I'm sorry about that."  
Hands rested on the brunet's hips now and jade green eyes held a regretful glimmer in them as he spoke those words, slightly shaking his head.  
Seifer could see the scowl on Squall's face, knew that if he didn't explain himself now he would only make things worse, yet the words wouldn't come. Part of him still wanted the other to be spared the memories of D-District, of their hatred, their fight until the end.  
That same part of him wanted to be whatever it was those eyes saw in him right now.

Shrugging, the brunet looked away and seemed to slowly sink back into that little space inside his head where he usually overthought everything, shutting the world out.  
That, too, made Seifer's chest ache.  
It seemed no matter which way they turned from here, it was bound to only get worse and he found himself at a loss of what to do.  
His eyes wandered, taking in the slim yet well-trained figure of the brunet, his flat stomach underneath the shirt, his shoulders, that lily-white neck.  
Before he could stop himself, his hand reached up and fingers gently traced the other's collar bone, his brows furrowed.  
"...it's missing." he hummed, more to himself than to the other.  
Distracted by the touch of warm fingers on his skin and the lowly mumbled words, Squall looked down again, wondering what the tall blond might be referring to.  
"What is?" he asked then, lifting his own hand to touch his collar bone as if he was checking for something he lost.  
And didn't he feel like there was something missing every time he didn't wear anything around his neck?  
"Griever." Seifer simply said, now looking at his face again.

There was a brief spark in staleblue eyes, the name clearly having a deeply rooted meaning to the brunet, but not reaching deep enough to recall any memory.  
Or at least he had no time to think about it for too long because there was that warm touch of Seifer's hand again, taking his chin and pulling him back down towards him.  
"It doesn't matter." the blond murmured against his lips, sealing their mouths once more.

When he came here, he wanted to do things better. He'd wanted to change, learn from past mistakes, and become a better person. But right now, right here, Seifer didn't seem to be able to hold himself to his own words, unable to resist this overwhelming feeling that washed over him when he felt Squall's lean body so close to his -not close _enough_!-, his soft lips melting against his own as they had always belonged there.  
He _wanted_ to do the right thing and end this before it went too far, but frankly, the blond's tendency of being impulsive and acting before asking had always been his biggest flaw in character. 

As for Squall, he could clearly see the person he once knew in there with his tendencies to shut down and pull his walls up, his scowls and frowns and silence that drew out for way too long. Yet there was another side to him Seifer believed had been buried all those years, only able to show now that he was allowed to not remember.  
At least he was quite sure that the old Squall would never have leaned into him like this, he would never have let Seifer touch him, sooner chopping off his hands.  
And he _liked_ this side of him, more so he loved the idea, the wishful thinking, that this could maybe be his, as he had secretly hoped for the longest time.

Without having noticed, his hands had settled on Squall's hips again, now having slipped underneath the dark cloth, fingers tracing up the other's back, earning him another one of those pretty-sounding sighs breathed against his lips of which he was certain he'd get addicted to.  
Just when his digits reached the shoulder blades of the other man, he could feel a stark unevenness on Squall's left side, different than the thin lines of scar tissue he passed when he moved his hands up the other's back.

It took a while for realization to set in through the hypnotizing haze those warm, soft lips made him feel, but when his palm settled over the huge area of cicatricial tissue, Seifer felt cold ice run through his veins, and before his mind's eye the image of Balamb's commander struck by an icy spear flashed up, him falling from a parade float and out of Seifer's sight.  
He broke away from those enticing lips, his other hand reaching for the brunet's cheek, effectively stopping the other from going after him once more and instead holding his head in place so he could lean up, softly pressing their foreheads together, scars matching.

Eyes closed, he breathed in the other's scent, not yet ready to fully break away from him, yet determined to stop this nonsense once and for all.   
Slender fingers were nestled in his neck, tips stroking his skin and running over short hair, staleblue eyes staring quizzically.  
"I...", Seifer set to speak, breaking off again as he realized he wasn't even sure what he wanted to say. There was so much, and yet not enough. Being faced with the choice of how they would proceed from hereon out presented him, for the first time in his life, with the feeling of being paralyzed instead of rushing head-on into whatever it was he wanted.

"Seifer.", Squall spoke at last as silence had fallen between them again, the blond apparently undecided as of what it was exactly that he wanted to say. Hearing his name, his real name, coming from the brunet, he hummed and opened his eyes, glancing into the stormy ones in front of him, not breaking the oddly intimate touch of their scars.  
"Can we just ...stay like this for a while?"  
It felt weird asking this, Squall realized, as if it was untypical for him to say such a thing, but right now he didn't care about it. For the first time in months, there was no chaos inside of him, no confusion riling him up, no questions that constantly begged for answers. And for the first time, too, he didn't feel alone.   
Whatever it was that stood between them, as he seemed to not remember any of it, he wasn't even sure he wanted to know. So for now, he decided, it was enough to just bask in this comforting silence only Seifer seemed to be able to bring to him.

**Rachdale, Seifer's Apartment, afternoon**

Sometime after what had seemed to be a blessed little eternity, both of them somehow managed to detangle themselves, the distance bringing a weird kind of emptiness with it.  
Decidedly Seifer refused to dwell on that exact feeling, knowing if he did, he would end up ravaging Squall's mouth for another couple of hours. Or doing worse.

He was now stood in his kitchen, dropping chopped vegetables into a frying pan, busying himself with cooking so he could get some proper food into his house guest.  
Another one of those more than alienating experiences, him cooking for Squall.   
It felt much like he was living in a parallel universe right now, a world in which he was able to glimpse what could have been had their lives taken different turns.

The brunet had taken to the magazines again after Seifer had shooed him under the shower, providing him a fresh set of clothes that were too big and made him look disgustingly adorable. Experience alone kept him from saying it out loud though since he treasured his health.  
He wondered, though, how much past experiences and memories must have shaped the brunet's character for him to be so different around him. Not that he behaved technically uncharacteristic; there was still that coolness about his behavior, the brooding and frowning, the short cut answers, but all of this mixed with something Seifer had only felt when he was around Fujin and Raijin. This type of amicable camaraderie where one never even spared a second thought of keeping their guard up or expecting harm of any kind.

And of course, there had been that halfway makeout-session earlier that kept creeping into his thoughts.

Just when he found himself thinking about those perfect lips again, his cell buzzed and pulled him safely away from his reverie. Setting the stove to a smaller temperature and placing the spatula aside, he reached inside his pocket to answer.  
"Evening, Zephyr!", the warm voice of Laiphra greeted him, the name for a second confusing to him, giving him a pause. This was bad. He couldn't risk getting used to his old name again so quickly.

"Hey, Lai, what's up?"  
"Nothing much with that storm around, that's for sure.", she sighed. He could hear her bustle about in the background as per usual, never wasting one moment of time to get things done.  
"Two things I wanted to let you know. First off, we'll stay closed tonight. Ain't nobody coming around anyways in that weather."  
Seifer hummed, unsure how to feel about it. For one, he needed the money. Also, he was sure it would have been better to get a bit of a timeout from the brunet's presence to clear his head again. But there was also that small voice inside his head that couldn't help but feel giddy about the thought of both of them having another evening for themselves.  
"Second, Daz called earlier."  
And out the window that giddy feeling went as he realized that he hadn't even thought about the man being out there in the wilds during a fucking storm. Seifer bit his lower lip guiltily, running one hand over his face. Shit.  
"Said he's all good, he made it to the cabin in time and brought enough food to last him a couple of days longer. Told me to tell you so you wouldn't worry."  
There was a certain undertone to her voice, not necessarily reproachful, yet he could very well guess what she thought about the messy situation he'd gotten himself into.  
Daz and he were casual, that wasn't the problem, yet in a small town like Rachdale there wasn't much competition to begin with and they _did_ spend a lot of time together, in and out of bed.

"Shit, I'm glad to hear that. Do you need me to head out and get him, or, help him with the hunting or something?"  
There came a sigh from the other end, then she hummed negative and seemed to be lost in thought for a moment as there was nothing else she said for a while.  
"Say, is that newcomer with you? Haven't seen him in the hotel since you two left the bar."  
Shit. He really hadn't thought things through when he took Squall with him. Laiphra wouldn't judge him having something going on with another guy, she didn't pry into his business like that, but he knew she was overly protective of Daznea and would give him hell if he managed to fuck things up.  
"Yeah, the storm started when I was showing him around town and I figured it would be safer if he stayed here...", the blond replied a bit sheepishly, knowing exactly how he sounded despite that nothing had actually happened.  
" _Uh-huh_.", it came sure enough from the other end, followed up by another sigh.  
"Alright, I won't meddle with your business Zephyr but do me a favor and don't be an ass. To neither of them."  
The last words gave him pause, he hadn't expected for Laiphra to care too much about a stranger. But then again, it was _Laiphra_ , who basically cared about everyone and everything equally.  
"Promise.", he murmured, running a hand through his hair and eyeing the happily sizzling vegetables inside the pan.

They ended the call on agreeing to talk again in the morning to see how the weather turned out and discuss his working schedule without any further mention of Seifer's private life.  
Weighing his cell in his hand for a long while after the call had ended, absentmindedly shifting the food on the stove with the spatula in the other hand, he finally opened his contacts and went through them until he found Daz's number.

_[From: Zephyr][To: Daz] - [5:32 p.m.] Hey Daz, Lai told me you were alright. Glad to hear._

The least he could do was message the guy, after all, they were on a more than friendly basis. Only a few minutes passed before his cell buzzed again.

_[From: Daz][To: Zephyr] - [5:35 p.m.] It's boring as fuck out here being stuck in this damn cabin.  
_ _[From: Daz][To: Zephyr] - [5:35 p.m.] Care to entertain me a bit? ;)_

_[From: Zephyr][To: Daz] - [5:36 p.m.] Gotta take care of my dinner lest I want to starve like you do up there._

It felt weird to try and steer the conversation away from anything sexual. Seifer knew the telltale signs of Daz flirting and he could only imagine how bored out of his mind the man must be, all alone stuck in an old cabin with little more than old Triple Triad cards to take his mind off things.

_[From: Daz][To: Zephyr] - [5:37 p.m.] 37-05-camroll075.jpg  
[From: Daz][To: Zephyr] - [5:37 p.m.] u sure? :-*  
_

Fuck.  
Seifer swallowed hard, the picture not entirely missing its purpose as he felt a slight tensing in his lower area.   
He breathed deeply, closing his eyes to refrain from staring at the pale body spread out on the sheets of a bed lying on the stomach, pants pulled down far enough to show the soft curve of hips and ass, proving once more that Daz was incredibly flexible to get such a good shot at that angle.

_[From: Zephyr][To: Daz] - [5:38 p.m.] I'm serious, you brat. Nice ass though._

_[From: Daz][To: Zephyr] - [5:38 p.m.] Mmh yes, call me names, Daddy <3_

  
_[From: Zephyr][To: Daz] - [5:38 p.m.] xD Shut up._

_[From: Daz][To: Zephyr] - [5:39 p.m.] Guess I'll have to have fun on my own then... ;(_

_[From: Zephyr][To: Daz] - [5:39 p.m.] You'd have to anyway, I'm not there._

_[From: Daz][To: Zephyr] - [5:39 p.m.] Point taken._  
_[From: Daz][To: Zephyr] - [5:39 p.m.] 39-05-camroll076.jpg_  
_[From: Daz][To: Zephyr] - [5:40 p.m.] So you don't forget what you're missing._

"You need any help?"  
Seifer almost jumped when he heard the voice behind him, jerking so that the mobile slipped from his hand having him struggle with it to stop it from falling to the floor for a hot minute.  
He hadn't heard the other approaching while he was staring at the lewd picture of Daz now lying on his back, hand around the base of his erection.  
"Shit, Hyne, fuck!" he cursed when he spun around to see the brunet standing in the door, watching the events before him unfold with the quirk of an eyebrow.  
Cocking his head, Squall crossed his arms over his chest and the slightest curl played around the corners of his mouth.  
"There's no shame in looking up recipes, you know." he commented on the blond's behavior with an air of amusement.

"Shit you gave me a start..." Seifer mumbled, quickly storing his cell back in his pocket.   
Turning back to the stove he swallowed hard again, taking deep breaths to calm himself down from the impossible situation he found himself in right now.  
"You can fetch the plates if you want.", he finally managed to say with a rather steady voice, pointing to one of the cabinets.

Squall nodded to the blond's back, heading over to the kitchen front the other had pointed out and started setting out two plates, setting them down next to the stove.  
He had spent the past hour filing through another one of the Weapon's Monthly magazines but eventually figured it would be polite to ask his host if he could give him a hand.  
Leaning over slightly to catch a better view of what they would have for dinner, he gave an appreciative hum. "Smells really good."

The blond glanced at the other man from the corner of his eyes, watching the lean figure reaching up to the cabinet, causing his shirt to slip from one shoulder, cursing Seifer with a most enticing view of milkwhite skin.  
"Should taste even better." he retorted, managing one of his cocky grins.  
This was his own private hell, he was sure of it.

Filling their plates with rice he had cooked beforehand and topping it off with the juicy, fried vegetables he then fetched them some cutlery and they headed back into the living room, ignoring the option to eat at the small kitchen counter adorned with bar chairs in favor for a more comfortable setting.

Squall neatly stapled the magazines spread all over the coffee table with one hand and placed them carefully aside to save them from getting stained by accident.  
"I was wondering", he mused as he sat down and set his plate in front of him, grabbing a fork and pointing it at the magazines, "I vaguely remember holding a gunblade at one point."  
Seifer hummed as he sank down at the other end of the couch, following the pointing of Squall's fork and nodding slightly in response to his words.  
"Correct." he confirmed, taking his time to elaborate by chewing thoroughly on a spoonful of vegetables.  
The brunet nodded in return, digging into his food as well, seemingly expecting that this was all the answer he would get - just like he himself would have replied curtly and to the point back in the days.

"You had a custom model. We were the only gunbladers at Garden." Seifer continued after a while, fondly remembering the beauty of a weapon the Lion of Balamb had wielded. He loved Hyperion but the nerve of the guy to have the blade embellished with his own sign, plus adding the pendant to the handle was just short of vain in his book. And he secretly thought it to be pretty cool.  
"So naturally we were paired up as sparring partners. You were...", he paused, old habits taking over, "...pretty clumsy with it, but what can a man do."  
Grinning, since he could hardly be called out on the blatant lie as long as Squall didn't remember, he continued eating, ignoring the surprised look on the other man's face.

"I was?"  
Squall furrowed his brow, thinking about the information he just got, noticing the grin on the blond's face.  
There was no way he could prove him wrong but _something_ told him that he was being played here. Snorting, he also continued eating in quiet, thinking over what it must have felt like to wield such an impressive weapon.  
Both of them sat in comfortable silence while eating up, each indulging in their own thoughts, sighing satisfied after finishing.

It might be a bad idea, Seifer mused after a while, but he couldn't help himself so he pushed himself up from the couch and headed into the bedroom, where he crouched to reach under his bed and grab the handle of Hyperion's case, pulling it out and taking it with him back into the living room.  
He placed it on the coffee table, gently dusting it off with the palm of his hand.  
Curious about what the blond was up to, Squall had followed the silent retreat into the bedroom with a lifted brow, now eyeing the case that was lying in front of him curiously, after stapling both their plates and putting them unceremoniously on the floor.

"Haven't taken her out for almost a year." Seifer said softly, tracing the red blood cross that adorned the top of the case with his fingertips.  
He pressed his lips into a thin line, nervous as what the sight of his gunblade might or might not do to Squall, fingers reaching for the clasps and flipping them open.  
Pushing the lid up, there she lay, dark, almost black steel and handle, razor-sharp and beautiful.  
He heard Squall hum in appreciation, leaning forward to take a closer look at the weapon presented to him.  
Seifer watched him closely, but couldn't find a trace of the kind of recognition that had struck the brunet earlier. In a way, it calmed him, although it was at the same time disappointing to not be of any further help to Squall.

"Hyperion." he introduced the blade, crossing his arms over his chest.  
Another hum from the brunet, who reached out and let his digits gently trace the quality of the weapon's handle.  
"Beautiful." Squall nearly whispered a hint of longing in his voice as the mere sight of the weapon seemed to stir at least a little something inside of him.  
"Yeah." Seifer agreed, not looking at the weapon at all when he said it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, oh boy.   
> Here we are, lots of smoochies and fluff.  
> Keeping the both of them separated is a proper struggle, I tell you. I had to make a little time jump or otherwise we'd be in the smutty depths of no return by now (don't worry, we'll get there!).
> 
> I hope you liked this chapter and as always, I'd love to hear your thoughts!


	7. Collisions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since there are some flashbacks involved in this fic by now, I wanted to add a short notice on how I imagine the timeline.
> 
> For this fic, I wanted to assume the entirety of the game took place over the span of approximately 4 years, giving some events more gravity and a more realistic feel (e.g. time spent in D-District would be 2-3 weeks, not a few days, and the reparation of Garden in Fisherman's Horizon would have taken months due to supply shortage and FH generally not being a Garden Factory). 
> 
> Thus, when the game ends and this fic starts, the characters are all in their early to mid 20's.

* * *

“Sometimes I think the difference between what we want and what we're afraid of is about the width of an eyelash.”  
― Jay McInerney

* * *

**Balamb Garden, training grounds, eight years ago**

"Hold your arm steady! Your left side is open, too!"  
With a cluttering sound, the wooden training weapon skidded over the ground and out of reach. Breath labored, the young cadet sank to all fours, a painful sting in his left side.  
"Up!"  
Teeth gritted, staleblue eyes shot a menacing glare up to the other boy leering down at him cooly, pointing the tip of his own training blade at his face.  
Stifling a painful groan, the younger one got up, clutching his side, eyes flitting towards his discarded weapon some ten steps away.

"This is such bullshit..." Squall moped, kicking the dirt and shoving his hands into the pockets of his Garden uniform, earning him raised eyebrows by his sparring partner.  
"Yeah, your stance _is_ bullshit, Leonhart." retorted the taller blond, slowly letting his arm sink to his side. Sea-green eyes bore into him as Squall slowly shuffled over to pick up the piece of wood, weighing it in his hand.

They had decided to come here every morning ever since Squall had announced he wanted to take up the gunblade too, as Seifer did.  
The blond had agreed to teach him how to properly wield it, loathe to admit he was looking forward to finally have a sparring partner, yet up to this day Squall hadn't used anything but wood to train, and it frustrated him.  
He now took the handle of the wooden sword into both his hands, instead of taking the stance Seifer had trained him to, and not waiting for the older one to give his sign to rematch he started into a quick dash towards his opponent, pressing his feet off the ground to leap into the air and let his weapon soar down.

Just barely in time and accompanied by a curse, Seifer swung his own sword to counter the unexpected attack, grunting from the sudden force behind the brunet's strike.  
It was enough to deflect any damage towards him and yet made him lose his grip, sending _his_ sword flying this time.

"Hyne fucking damn it, Squall!" he barked, shaking out his hand. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

"Winning.", retorted the younger boy, a curl to his lips betraying his otherwise stubborn expression.  
With an exasperated sigh, Seifer shook his head and brushed his hand through his hair, heading over to collect the sword, swinging it up to rest it on his shoulder.  
"Very funny. If you're not able to follow the simplest of commands, which would be to take a proper fighting stance, I'll never let you handle an actual gunblade, got it?"

Snorting at that, Squall did a couple of testing swings through the air, holding the blade in both hands, sometimes striking with one hand at last minute.  
"This feels much better, though. Don't tell me it's somewhere in the Garden rules to use that stupid stance of _yours_?"

Blinking, Seifer stared at the other boy, then scowled at him, muttering something inaudible as he started heading towards one of the nearby benches, leaning the sword against it and sinking down.  
Squall fell in step beside him, leaning his weapon next to the others and shrugged his jacket off, followed by a glance at the time on his watch. 

"I've been admitted to take the SeeD theory exam next week.", the blond spoke after a while, rubbing his chin and grinning wildly. For about a year, there had been barely any other topic for the blond cadet, and begrudgingly Squall had to admit that all this talk about heroic adventures had piqued his interest as well.  
Though, if he was being honest to himself, the primary drive behind his own, unspoken plans to follow Seifer's example and apply for SeeD after his 15th birthday was a different one.

All rivalry during their sparring aside, he did want to become better than Seifer, being able to shove all those annoying taunts and snide remarks right up his ass. But that wasn't all.  
The thought of Seifer being out on missions and him staying behind alone was, even if he'd never admit to it, a scary one.  
Ever since he came to Garden one year after Seifer had been admitted, he had followed him around like a shadow.

The blond seemed not to mind too much, at least for the first couple of years when Squall was more like a lost puppy trying to find his way around Garden with Seifer being the only one he knew and the brunet being too socially awkward to make new friends. He also didn't _want_ any new friends, because, in the end, they'd always leave. Like Ellone did. 

Seifer had set him up with his first Weapon's Monthly, he had taken time to explain the variety of weapons and classes Garden had to offer, and all-around had taken Squall under his wing all the while being pretty much what Squall figured an annoying, blasé older brother must be like with his better-than-thou attitude he tended to shove into people's face. And more often than not, into Squalls.

What had started as teasing and annoying the brunet had over the years developed into a weird ritual of bickering and provoking each other, not failing to make the entirety of Garden believe the both of them hated each other's guts, only begrudgingly working together to spar. Squall didn't care enough to explain that this was just how both of them clicked, and neither did Seifer.

Hearing about the upcoming exam now, Squall crossed his arms over his chest, staring at the floor, just humming in response. There was this old fear again, the certainty that their time together, how awkward it might be, would come to an end eventually and he would be left behind. Better he'd get used to the thought sooner rather than later.  
He didn't need Seifer. He could train on his own if need be, and his grades were good enough that he was certain he could take on the SeeD exam too once the time came.  
When he was the last kid at the orphanage he had already accepted that people inevitably left him at some point and that it was better to be able to fend for himself, not relying on others to be there for him at all times.  
Yet, seeing Seifer at Garden had thrown him back into old habits, which would now come back to haunt him.

"So, is this what I think it is?"  
The taunting undertone of the blond boy's voice dragged him out of his thoughts and blinking the younger one looked up, frowning at the cadet sat before him.  
Seifer casually nodded towards a slim black leather case leaning on the fence a few steps away.  
The brunet had carried it with him to the training grounds without explanation, and his older sparring partner had not warranted it any attention until now.  
"It got delivered this morning.", Squall reluctantly said, shrugging without making a move to retrieve the case.  
With a sigh, Seifer made another nod directed at it, quietly issuing Squall to bring it over.

The case was heavy and it took all of Squall's pride to not carry it with both hands, lest it would make him look weak. He gently placed the case on the bench next to where Seifer was sitting, hearing a snort from the other boy.  
"Go big or go home I guess?" the blond smirked, pointing at the Griever symbol glistening in silver on top of the shell. Another shrug was all the answer the brunet had for him before he flicked the snaps open and pushed the lid up.  
Inside there lay Revolver, a magnificent gunblade with a black handle and silver steel that had the entire figure of Griever engraved at the shaft, a spare round of bullets embedded into the foam next to it.

Seifer was very quiet when he took the sight in, brow quirked, reaching out to let the little pendant on the handle glide through his fingers, his face unreadable.  
Without a word, he got up to his feet and all but shoved Squall aside to take the gunblade in his hand, lifting it out of its case. Taking a few steps, he weighed it in hand, then took his fighting stance to see how it felt.  
"...it's heavy.", he murmured, swinging the weapon a couple of times before shaking his head. "Too heavy. Unbalanced."

Frowning, Squall stepped up beside him and made a gesture with his hand to signal the blond he should hand the weapon over.  
With his telltale mightier-than-thou grin, Seifer obliged and crossed his arms to observe what he very much believed to become a sad show of the younger one trying to hold the weapon properly.  
Squall took the blade in both his hands, legs spread into a steady stance, his shoulders set. Suddenly, the gunblade didn't appear unbalanced at all, which gave Seifer a pause, and he cocked his head to watch the brunet take some experimenting hits with the blade against a nearby dummy.  
The sight pleased him, and an appreciating smile curled his lips for the shortest moment, unseen by the brunet.

"Well, if you're so determined to commit to such a stupid looking stance, be my guest.", the blond smirked with a condescending undertone to his voice, stepping up to the younger boy and tapping his biceps.  
"But you better work out some more, build some muscle. That thing is heavier than mine and you'll want to be able to hold it steady for longer than a minute."  
Squall lifted one brow, contemplating if he should retort something, but knowing that there was truth to the other's words, he merely nodded, heading back to the case to carefully place his gunblade back inside.  
"She's a beauty." Seifer admitted, standing beside him.  
Snorting, not taking any compliment the blond had to offer serious ever, Squall closed the lid and snapped the case shut.

**Rachdale, Seifer's Apartment, evening**

Sea-green eyes being fixed on the brunet's profile, it took Seifer a moment to realize what expression he was seeing on the pale features before him. It came close to _yearning_.  
That was a first.  
He deliberately took a couple of moments more to take in this new display of emotion, committing it to memory, before he looked down on the pale fingers caressing the gunblade like an old friend. If only he knew.  
"You wanna take her?", he heard himself ask before he could stop his mouth from moving, causing him to frown for the briefest moment.  
A spark appeared in Squall's eyes as he looked up at him incredulously, then he hesitated, straightening up.  
"Would... that be okay?"

This time it was Seifer who shrugged, nudging his head towards the weapon. "Sure, if you want."  
He himself couldn't hold her, hadn't done so in almost a year. The scene unraveling before him seemed almost perverse, his former rival about to hold the very weapon that had caused him a lot of the scars he was wearing, on top of a lot of suffering to his friends altogether.  
Unbeknownst to him though, Squall's hand reached for Hyperion, taking her out of her shell carefully as to not knock something over in the not too spacious apartment.

Just like in old times when they sparred together, the brunet weighed the weapon, humming appreciatively at the feel of it in his hands, both of them instinctively closing around the handle.  
"She's lightweight.", Squall murmured, tilting the gunblade slightly to glance along the dark steel of the blade itself.  
Huffing, the tall blond quirked an eyebrow at the other.  
"Yeah, because _real_ gunbladers only use one hand.", he scoffed, feeling testy about this particular subject.  
Humming, Squall then shifted his grip and held Hyperion with one hand, immediately noticing how much more strain it put on his muscles. It felt kind of wrong, although he couldn't make out why.

"Tell you what, once this storm blows over we head out to the fields and I show you how it's done properly.", Seifer suggested, part of him starting to itch for something he had forbid himself to do for such a long time.  
Maybe he could even get hold of an old gunblade at one of the workshops on the outskirts of town so they could actually spar?  
"Sounds good to me." the brunet agreed without taking his eyes off the weapon, a small smile quirking his lips.  
He carefully put Hyperion back into its case and Seifer closed it, this time not immediately storing it away and out of sight, but instead leaning it on the nearby wall so they could take it with them in the morning, hopefully.

"Tomorrow's Sunday so I don't have to work. If the weather settles, we can head for the fields in the morning.", he mused while steadying the case properly to keep it from accidentally toppling over.  
He could hear Squall agree behind him, and a feeling he thought long lost bloomed in his chest. The anticipation of a friendly spar, both of them getting their sweat on, just like old times.

Turning back around to face the smaller man, a challenging grin popped on the blond's face, taking in the figure of the other in front of him. "I'll go check if I can find us a secondhand gunblade before we head out so we can see what you can do."  
Seemingly surprised, at least from the smallest lift to thin, dark brows, he saw Squall nod curtly as he always did when accepting a challenge.  
"Then it's settled. Guess we should also go to sleep soon so we're well-rested."

Squall frowned slightly at the display of the taller man who suddenly seemed very excited somehow. And deep down, he had to admit, he felt the same.

**Rachdale, Seifer's Apartment, night**

_He was alone._  
 _There was a staleness in the air he could taste on his tongue, and a mixture of dust and fog swirling around him, each step echoing through an eternity and an all succumbing vastness of endless nothingness._  
 _The barren ground under his boots cracked and dried out, not even withered grass or any sign of life whatsoever aside from himself to be seen, he looked at his hands just to confirm that he was still here._  
 _Wherever_ here _actually was._

_He called out. Names that were ripped from his lips and vanished into the endlessness, ripped from his memory alike.  
He was alone.  
All alone.  
Again._

_  
_"....ll..." _  
_

 _Slowly the dust and fog and shadows lurked ever closer, licking at his boots, his heels, slipping up his entire body, engulfing him._  
 _There were faces, but their features were blurred, he couldn't make them out, he couldn't_ remember _._  
 _His mouth opened, he tried to scream but yet again every possible sound he could have made was ripped from him. He forgot what his voice sounded like._  
 _Thrashing against the shadows, the succumbing darkness, he tried harder to press out at least the ghost of a sound, when really he must be roaring at the top of his lungs._

"....all...!"

_And then, all of a sudden, there were hands, long fingers clawing at his shoulders, reaching for his eyes, wanting to take the last sense he has left, ready to tear into him and steal his sight so he would be conscious but helpless, lost in desperation, for all eternity._

  
"SQUALL!!"

With a jerk he sat up in his bed, his throat aching as if he had been screaming on the top of his lungs for an hour or so. His mind took longer to follow his body's movements, catching on that he must have been dreaming.  
Yet his body trembled violently, shiver after ice-cold shiver pouring through him, his hands clawed into the bedsheets, knuckles white.

Hands grabbed his shoulders and he let out a hoarse yelp, swatting them away, eyes unseeing in sheer panic until they zoned in on the tall blond figure leaning over him, sea-green depths looking troubled, _horrified_.

"Shit, Squall." he heard the familiar voice say, a hand touching his shoulder delicately this time, probing if he would flinch away again. He didn't.  
When Seifer realized, he gripped the other's shoulder more firmly, rooting him in the here and now, much like Raijin had done so many times when he had woken up like this after the war. He knew the telltale signs of trauma, and Squall seemed to have had some sort of dream-flashback.

"It's alright. You're safe here." he whispered gently, now rubbing the other's back as he was still trembling with tremors.  
"Hold on just a sec, I'll be right back okay?"

Squall didn't really register, his whole body cramped up and shaking violently, all he could do was pull his knees closer to his body, making himself as small as he could in hopes of getting his body to feel warm again and stop his teeth from clattering.  
His chest felt tight, breathing became steadily more difficult and when he felt a warm hand on his back again, a whimper wound its way out of his aching throat.

"Shhh, it's alright. You need to breathe." Seifer cooed, placing something on the nightstand before leaning in closer carefully, rubbing his hands over the brunet's arms to get him warmer.  
"Breathe for me." he continued softly, now reaching to gently grab his chin and lifting his head so their eyes could meet in the dark.  
Squall's lips were quivering, the wild look around his eyes still speaking of panic and his chest heaving in shallow attempts to suck in air.  
"Slow and steady. Breathe in like me... and then out. Slow and steady."  
The first few attempts to follow Seifer's lead were futile, threatening to spiral the brunet even further down his panic attack, but then it started to work and he managed a couple of shaky, longer breaths.

"That's it. You're doing good.", the blond nodded, guiding the younger man along and talking him through it, praising him when he managed to breathe properly and coaxing him softly when he didn't. He had been there too and knew how it felt like, how everything around him seemed to vanish except for the utter overwhelming panic, and the futile attempts to breathe. The feeling like you were dying.

"There, that's better." he smiled after a while when the tremors had subsided to mere shivers now and then, and he noticed Squall relaxing a bit.  
"Here, drink up."  
Checking if the other was able to hold his glass steady, he pressed the whiskey in Squall's hand, taking one glass for himself to help him over the shock of what had just happened.  
He was pretty sure that alcohol would be something Dr. Kadowaki would have whooped his ass to hell and back for in this situation, but he gave a Grat's ass.

To his surprise, Squall did just as he told him, downing the entirety of the glass in one go, holding it out to be refilled.  
"More."  
Raising his brows at the surprisingly asserting tone that gave him an idea of what Squall must have been like as a commander, he nodded slightly and obliged, refilling the glass.  
This time, Squall downed half of it in one go, letting out another deep breath of air after.  
"Take it slow." Seifer admonished despite knowing that nothing he could say would probably get through that thick stubborn head of the other.

Silence settled between them as they drank, both for their own reasons, and Seifer decided not to pry into what exactly it was that had Squall so freaked out.  
He wouldn't have wanted to talk about it either, were he in his place. He could remember screaming at Fujin to just stop inquiring when she wanted to help by getting him to talk. All he wanted was to do anything but talk about what haunted him.

When he had emptied his third glass, Squall slowly looked up at him, a pretty rose tint to the pale cheeks. "...thanks." he said lowly, teeth grinding down on his lower lip, chewing it absentmindedly.  
Seifer shook his head, putting both their glasses on to the nightstand and leaning in a bit closer to check if the other had calmed down entirely at last. "Don't mention it."  
Almost automatically he put his hand under the other's chin, lifting his face a little so he could get a better look. The wildness around the eyes had vanished, although they still looked haunted.  
Not really noticing it, his thumb made gentle strokes over the other's chin.  
He froze when he could feel a cool hand on his own, a strange intent in the stormy eyes of the other man as he pushed himself up a little, inching closer.  
"Stay?", he heard the hushed voice, soft breath against his face as he was so close, _too close_. "I don't want to be alone."

And with that, the other slender hand was placed on Seifer's neck, pulling him closer and abolishing the last hint of distance between them as Squall smoothed his mouth against his, practically melting into him as he sighed longingly into their kiss.  
The sound was enough to make the tall blond shiver, his arms snaking around the slim figure of the other, an unrelenting wave of want washing over him.  
There was no clear thought process anymore as Squall pressed himself close to him, no place for anything else but this burning desire he had nurtured over many years without being able to show for it, without even dreaming of it ever becoming reality.

He indulged himself in those soft lips, conquering them and prying them open with much less patience than hours before. His tongue demanded access and was granted such immediately, greedily exploring the other's mouth, sliding along his tongue, dancing and twirling, uncaring for breath that seemed very disposable at that moment.  
He leaned against the smaller frame without breaking their kiss, looming over the brunet who kept on releasing the prettiest, softest sounds into his mouth, feeling his slender legs spread so he could glide between them as they sank down, thighs applying gentle pressure to his sides.

Shifting his weight to his left elbow, his right hand made its way underneath the cloth of the shirt, gliding slowly over soft skin and scar tissue, fingertips exploring muscles and dips, reaching higher until they found one nipple, gently stroking circles over the sensitive skin.

Squall jerked a little at the touch, a whimper fleeing from his lips wich broke their kiss, just in time for both of them to get some much-needed air into their lungs.  
A low growl formed in his throat as Seifer leaned over him to catch the brunet's lower lip with his teeth, pulling lightly and biting maybe a bit too hard, making the other wince, before he let go and let the tip of his tongue flick over the reddened skin.

The impatience taking a hold of him was acute and with both his hands he nearly ripped the obtrusive shirt from Squall who leaned up enough so they could pull it over his head. Breathing hard, Seifer paused, gaze wandering over the milky white skin, stopping at the large scar on his left chest and shoulder.  
He leaned down, brushing the scar tissue with his lips, placing gentle kisses and working his way higher, past collarbones and to the curve of the neck, sucking at the skin to leave a mark.

A soft moan ran from Squall's lips at the feeling of suction on his sensitive skin, his head falling to the side to grant the other man even more access which was regarded with contentment, leaving the blond to explore the side of his throat leisurely, biting, kissing and sucking his way up to his jaw, marking his way in little bruises here and there.   
His right hand had taken to glide up the other side of the brunet's throat while he busied himself to teasingly bite and nibble his lobe, fingertips grazing those enticing lips when he surprisedly noticed them parting, allowing the digits of two fingers to dip inside lightly, the wetness of the tip of Squall's tongue briefly caressing them, followed by teeth grazing, biting down softly.

Seifer pushed himself up enough to take a look, feeling his pants become inexplicably tight at the sight of his fingertips inside that pretty mouth.  
His low moan turned into yet another growl and he bowed down, ravishing the brunet's lips and mouth once more while his fingers busied themselves to unfasten the string on the man's hip, only pausing when he felt an equally impatient tuck on his own shirt.  
The very same was pulled over his head and tossed away in a matter of seconds, landing on a lampshade in the corner, while Seifer was already all over Squall's mouth again.

Meanwhile, cool fingers brushed over the blond's torso, spread wide to cover as much space as possible on their slow way up, passing over well-built muscles of a six-pack, up to the other's pecs, and ending on his shoulders where they came to rest, looking for support as Squall's body had started to shiver again, though not nearly as unpleasing as before.  
He gasped for breath whenever Seifer allowed him to but made no move to break away from their kiss that made his head spin and chased away the haunting remnants of his dream.

He felt dizzy and enraptured by the tall blond, instinctively following the older one's lead as he couldn't find any sign in him that he had ever been in such a situation before. And if he had, he still didn't really know what to do.  
All he knew was he wanted Seifer close, as close as possible, because then he wouldn't have to think, he wouldn't have to face these nightmares, and he would feel sheltered and cared for and calm deep inside.

Seifer's mind, on the other hand, had been thrown into chaos, an uproar inside of him that fought between the unrelenting urge to push on, to conquer, to make the brunet his, for it had been too long. That side of him was greedy, and needy, and didn't care for possible consequences of the future. It was what had kept him going all through the war and had reared it's slumbering head ever since he had laid eyes on Squall again.  
The other side was just as strong-willed, not entirely wanting to hold him back either but rather urging him to shield the younger man from any harm, protect him and do what's _right_. 

Yet his primal instincts and carnal desires were too strong to even make an attempt at listening to either side, devil and angel on his shoulders, what he was doing here was just so damn _distracting_.   
Those hands on his skin felt so damn good, the taste of Squall's mouth was addicting and those sounds, by Hyne, he could spend the rest of his life coaxing those out of that pretty throat of his.  
Spurred on by the squirming of the slender body beneath him, he pushed himself up a little, grabbing Squall's wrists and slowly pushing his arms up above the other one's head, down onto the mattress, pinning him down.

Breathing hard, he allowed his gaze to take in how utterly perfect the brunet looked, all flushed and winding and _wanting_.  
Seifer's lips parted, words already forming when he felt the unevenness under his hands, on the other's wrists. He frowned slightly at this, looking up and letting his grip slide a bit lower to rest close to Squall's elbows when he saw the blistered scar tissue marring the otherwise perfect skin of the other man's wrists.  
A knee nudging him into his side pulled him from thoughts that threatened to overwhelm him, pulling his gaze back to stormy-blue eyes, hazy and beckoning, whisking away any doubt that dared form in his head right this instant.

Grip tightening on pale skin, hard enough to bruise, he leaned back down to let his lips brush over sensitive nipples, teasingly nipping at either side causing the brunet to arch his back with the sweetest moan. Tongue lapping against the delicate area, his hips ground into the other's, prooving just how much Squall seemed to enjoy what they were doing when he felt the hardness through both their pants.  
Without furder ado, he sat up to push the remainder of his own clothes off his hips, skilled movements making the cloth slip below his knees to be abandoned somewhere behind him shortly after.

Squall's gaze wandered over the perfectly sculpted body of the blond, a shiver of anticipation running through his limbs as it rested on Seifer's erection, hard and big curving to his navel, a hint of precum glistening on the tip.  
Just then realization struck him about what was to transpire here, and although he shivered again he noticed that, though being nervous about it, he also felt incredibly impatient.  
Licking his lips, it took all his resolve to keep his hands above his head and on the mattress, effectively surrendering himself to the tall blond who took note of it with a satisfied smirk, one hand stroking himself from base to tip.  
The other hand reached for him, applying pressure to his groin, massaging him through the cloth of his pants causing Squall to sharply inhale and scrunching his eyes closed from the intense feeling of deft fingers teasing him.

The view of the wet, pink tongue gliding over enticing lips was enough to spur on Seifer's imagination and he knew he would want that mouth around his cock at some point, seeing those hazy eyes stare up at him. He had noticed though that Squall didn't seem too experienced in what they were doing here so he admonished himself to patience on that department, grabbing the rim of the other's pants instead with both hands and practically ripping them down to free the brunet's erection, leaning back a little so he could get rid of the annoying disturbance of clothing for good by pulling it down the other's slender legs and throwing it off the bed.

Placing his hands on the brunet's ankles, he let them slowly slide up the lily-white skin, brushing inward as he reached his upper thighs to spread his legs, leaning down to blow soft kisses on the inside of his femur.  
A gentle bite accompanied his right hand traveling further, fingertips exploring the other man's length teasingly soft to coax more of these delicious sounds from his former rival.  
Seifer pushed himself up a bit more, his shoulders brushing against thighs as he leaned further down, hands on the other's hips for purchase while the tip of his tongue started a lazy journey up the brunet's length, gently gliding to the tip and finally swirling around it, tasting faint salt.  
The moan which broke from Squall's lips was incredible, the other man's back arching again as he shifted his arms a little to be able to grab the bedsheets above his head, clearly desperate to find something to hold on to.

Seifer grinned, repeating the swirl of his tongue, eyes trained on the perfect picture of that winding body, the blushed face with parted, quivering lips.  
With a sharp pull, he maneuvered Squall's groin closer to him, his mouth now welcoming the tip of his erection in to suck on it ever so slightly, his gaze observing all those dazzling reactions he was able to provoke with what he was doing to Squall.

Feeling his length slowly slipping between warm lips, the brunet mewled, his whole senses trained on the sensation of the warm wetness surrounding him, making him release every breath with a moan or a sigh, unable to think any coherent thoughts.  
It was then that he couldn't help himself any longer, his hips lightly moving along with every movement the other made, and Squall's hands found golden hair, brushed through it, wanting to do _something_.   
But Seifer only softly growled, sucking one last time, hard, on him, before retreating and shooting him a warning look. Clicking his tongue, a mischievous smile on the taller man's features when he heard a sound of protest, he pushed himself up, away from the brunet's aching erection, playfully swatting away the hands in his hair.

"I didn't say you could move your hands, did I?" he hummed lowly, eyes a darker shade than Squall had ever seen them, the whole blond's demeanor sending shivers up and down his spine.  
"So impatient...", Seifer purred against his lips now, enjoying how eagerly they smoothed against his, gentle touch of cool fingertips against his shoulders. Steadying himself with his knees, the blond reached for the other's hands again, pushing them back over Squall's head while he placed another soft bite into his lower lip.  
Holding both wrists with one hand in place now, his right hand's fingertips grazed the brunet's flushed cheek, a hungry look to his eyes.  
"Open up.", he hummed as his digits passed over slightly kiss-swollen lips.  
Staleblue eyes stared up at him, a delightful mixture of anticipation, want and confusion and Squall hesitated but a moment before obeying the order, opening his mouth to allow the blond's index and middle finger to push inside.

He could feel demanding pressure on his tongue, causing it to glide along each phalanx reluctantly but soon noticing it was similar to the tongue play they had indulged in earlier, making his efforts bolder.  
Squall could feel the hungry stare of now dark, sea-blue eyes trained on him, observing in minute detail how the blond's fingers played with his tongue, soon coated slippery in his saliva, causing the grip of the other hand holding his wrists to tighten.  
As he felt the fingers retreat, he instinctively followed the movement, leaning his head up a bit before sinking back short of breath.

The eager movement had Seifer moan lowly, demanding all his self-control to not continue this little game. But he had other things in mind.  
"Stay." he demanded curtly, pushing himself up enough to lean over to his nightstand and retrieve a certain bottle from it which's acquaintance Squall had involuntarily made the morning before.  
Flipping it open and adding a good measure of lube to his already wet fingers, Seifer discarded it nearby, closing the distance between the both of them to once more to take hold of Squall's wrists, pinning him down in place and at his mercy.  
The other hand slipped down, fingers pushing between Squall's thighs and one digit searching and soon finding his entrance, causing the younger man to flinch both from the cold feeling and the general intrusion of that area of his body.

Seifer leaned in to nibble at the other's jaw, gently biting, letting the tip of his index finger draw lazy circles to get the brunet used to the feeling.  
"I need you to relax." he whispered assuringly, distracting the other with more kisses, bites, and sucking on the skin of his neck as he slowly pushed against the tight ring until the tip of his finger was inside.  
A beautiful gasp ran from the brunet's lips as he carefully started moving to get him accustomed to the invasion, inching his finger deeper at a slow pace that wore his own patience thin. He wanted to feel him already, to sink into the incredible warm tightness and have Squall scream his name.

Little did he know that the brunet was already close to doing so, feeling the movement inside his body, patiently opening him bit by bit with just enough time to get him accustomed to the feeling, slowly working deeper inside him making his body tremble with pleasure.  
Hearing the blond whisper in his ear, sweet nothings to get him to relax more, it didn't take him too long to do so and finding the movement of the other's finger enjoyable even. Just then the blond pulled back, only to push into him again at that insanely slow pace with two digits.  
Squall's body jerked once more and he mewled, turning his head to bury his burning face in his upper arm best as he could.

The tall blond hummed at the shy display, placing a teasing bite on the other man's earlobe. "Don't hide from me.", he purred, sighing contently as he felt the other relax faster around his fingers this time, allowing him to move more deliberately, preparing the other further.  
"Let me see you.", he coaxed, eyes trained on the beautiful features as hazy grey-blues looked up at him through brown strands of soft hair, face reluctantly turning towards him again. At that, Seifer pushed both fingers into the tightness more vigorously, smirking as he heard a loud moan in reply. He repeated pressing into Squall, each time almost reaching that sweet spot but retreating just short of it, denying the other the pleasure he wanted him to feel not by his fingers, not this time around.  
Soon he was able to add a third finger, enjoying the trembling of the body beneath him, squirming in pleasure and so lost in it that the brunet relentlessly sighed and moaned.

Just when he noticed the other man getting close to his climax did he slowly retreat, ignoring the protesting whine and pleading look in favor for reaching out and grabbing the bottle of lube again, squeezing out a generous amount into his palm before stroking himself base to tip a couple of times, admiring the heavy breathing form before him.  
This time around, Squall seemed to be remembering to keep his hands in place and Seifer made a mental note to use some sort of restraint, maybe a belt, when the opportunity presented itself some time.  
Not the first time he had fantasies of a naked, whimpering Squall and some very specific belts either.

Hands grabbing the brunet's hips, the blond pulled him closer, smoothing himself against the other's lap so he could feel his slick and throbbing erection, before he positioned himself properly, one hand around the base of his cock to place the tip against the tight opening. Dark, jade-green eyes were locked with grey-blues as he slowly started pushing inside, feeling the tight ring giving way as the head slowly sank in, making him shudder with delight. A quick glance down showed him just how tight the other was around him, the brunet's little scream of pleasure and pain still ringing in his ears.

Panting with the strain of taking it slow, Seifer slowly leaned forward, sinking deeper with his movement, sealing Squall's lips with his own to muffle some of the wails and mewls that incessantly sounded from the other. He found his kiss reciprocated with neediness, making him smile against the brunet's lips and obligingly deepening the kiss to explore the other man's mouth once more.   
With a final push of his hips and a curse he bottomed out, causing Squall to break the kiss and throw his head back, letting out a hoarse scream of pleasure as his fingers desperately clawed at the sheets beneath them, his arms still stretched out like it was expected.  
Smirking at the view, Seifer stayed still for the moment, taking pleasure in the tight heat he found himself in, lips grazing the other's chin and jaw before capturing Squall's in a gentle play again.  
"You can move your hands if you like.", he chuckled against the brunet's mouth and hummed in amusement when he immediately felt the other's arms thrown around his neck.

Slowly the tall blond started to move, retreating slightly at first before sinking deeper again to give Squall a chance of getting used to the feeling, but soon he couldn't hold on to any form of patience any longer, spurred on by the beautiful sounds coming from his former rival, and he started thrusting faster and harder.  
He could feel the other man tensing around him as he picked up the pace, fingernails scratching the skin of his shoulders and shoulder blades, only causing him to thrust harder into the brunet who much too soon was nothing more than a babbling mess underneath him.  
Seifer let one hand slide over the flat stomach under him, fingers wrapping around the other's length beginning with firm strokes, but only half a dozen of those later he could feel Squall tensing up, body pressing against him and fingers clawing desperately as he came into his hand with a scream of his name on his lips.

Biting his own lower lip at the sight of the flushed brunet shuddering from the afterglow of his climax he slowed down his thrusts for a brief moment, giving Squall a minute to catch his breath and making use of the time to reach for the discarded shirt closeby to clean up the worst of the sticky mess. Smirking as he watched the worn-out figure beneath him he slowly pulled back, only to press his hips forcefully against the other's, sinking deep and hitting that sweet spot that made the brunet whimper all over again.  
"Fuck", the blond bit out, hands gripping under Squall's upper legs, hooking right under the hollow of his knees to push them up "you're so fucking beautiful.", he groaned as he pushed further, bringing down one leg of the flexible brunet to lie flush against the mattress, keeping his firm grip there to apply pressure and fix it in this position, while hooking the other leg over his shoulder.  
There came a small sound from Squall, not quite clear if in response to the tall blond's words or his actions, but there was not much time dwelling on the what's and why's, for Seifer's hunger was far from satiated and, now that he had positioned the slender body so exquisitely, he started pounding into him again with long, hard thrusts.

It didn't take long for Squall's length to harden again and now it was Seifer closing in to the finish line, basking in the sweet sounds pouring from the other's mouth as he desperately clawed at the bedsheets for some sort of purchase, while the blond kept relentlessly thrusting into him. Feeling the telltale tenseness in his groin he pushed on, the formerly long and hard thrusts of his hips becoming more frantic, demanding even, as a growl formed in the back of his throat. "Shit... fuck...!", he cursed with gritted teeth, the grip on lily-white legs hard enough to bruise as his whole body convulsed in pleasure as he released his climax into the tight warmth, filling the brunet up.

There was a brief moment of pause as Seifer closed his eyes, head fallen back into his neck and breath labored, as he slowly rolled his hips to ride out the high, enjoying the shallow shivers it brought him.  
He could hear a soft sigh from the other man and looking down he could see that Squall had taken to stroke himself, eyes closed and lashes resting on hot cheeks, teeth grinding on his lower lip.  
A low rumble formed in Seifer's throat at the sight and he let go of the thigh he had pressed relentlessly down onto the mattress to take Squall's hand away, answering the questioning look of hazy staleblues with a quirk of his eyebrow.  
"I'm not done yet, pet.", he smirked, indeed still hard inside the other man.  
Pulling on the other's hand to urge him to sit up, supporting the brunet's back with his other hand as he followed his lead as he pulled him into his lap, effectively pushing deeper inside the lean body, earning him another moan.  
"And neither are you." Seifer concluded with a smirk, hand sliding down and squeezing the firm ass.

Squall felt dizzy as he was pulled into the blond's lap, causing him to impale himself even more onto the other's length that had lost nothing of it's vigor.  
While Seifer was still holding his wrist gently in his hand, Squall's free one settled on the taller man's shoulder, a hint of shyness creeping up on him now that he was so close to the blond's face, the position seemingly more intimate than before.  
Reluctantly he glanced up to meet jade-green eyes observing his every move and reaction, causing him to blush even harder if that was possible at all.  
"I want you to move." he heard the blond say as he let go of his wrist, placing the now free hand on his hip.   
Squall swallowed hard, nervously, but nodded, both hands on Seifer's shoulders now to steady himself as he started slowly pushing himself up, shuddering and sighing at the feel of friction inside of him. He could feel the supporting grip of the other's large hands on his hips as he sank down again, whimpering at the intensity of it all.  
"That's it, keep going." Seifer purred, luring him to let go and just feel.

And it seemed to be working, the praise that kept pouring from the tall blond made him bolder and soon he found himself in a steady rhythm of pushing his body up and pressing it down again, even rolling his hips slightly after being guided by Seifer's hands. It was overall slower than before, yet incredibly rewarding whenever he could feel the hard cock of the taller man brush that deep part inside of him that had him moan and softly scream.  
A sheen of sweat over both their bodies, breathing hard, Seifer raised one hand to brace it against Squall's neck, thumb stroking along the sharpness of his jaw, has he pulled the other closer, bringing their foreheads together as they found themselves in the steady pace of him thrusting his hips up to each sinking down of the other to reach even deeper. "So perfect.", Seifer moaned, unable to keep the praise to himself, smoothing his lips messily against the brunet's as they were both equally gasping for air.

Their pace picked up eventually and Seifer grabbed the brunet's hips again to help him raise his body higher, pushing down harder, feeling both their high creeping closer. "Touch yourself." he pressed out, breathing hard, growling as Squall obliged right away, both their moans mixing in the cascading pleasure of their union.  
Squall sank against him more, practically melting against his body as he bowed his head to bury his face in the nape of Seifer's neck, unable to help himself from eventually biting into the sensitive skin.  
They rocked against each other ecstatically, Squall pleasing himself with long, firm strokes while Seifer pressed him down hard with each move, lifting his hips at the same time to reach so incredibly _deep_ it made the brunet almost pass out.  
While Squall had been in control in the beginning, right now it was more up to the tall blond to dominate the situation and pace again, guiding the movements of the brunet that soon became messy before he tensed up again with a high pitched scream, coming into his own hand.

Seifer growled as he felt the tenseness around his cock, urging him on, this time ignoring the possible overstimulation of the other man, viciously forcing himself into him for another half dozen thrusts until he, too, felt the ecstasy of his climax wash over him as he cursed, pressing the lean body down onto him as he once more came into the hot tightness. He kept languidly pushing his hips up to ride out both their highs, only slowly growing more shallow until he stilled, one hand stroking the back of the other man who had sunken against him completely spent.  
Purring contently, Seifer turned his head to the side to nibble at the brunet's neck, feeling entirely satisfied.

"Think you can sleep now?", the blond hummed with a smirk, face still half-buried in soft brown hair. He could hear a muffled sound that seemed close enough to a hummed positive, so he chuckled and gently helped the poor, weak-kneed ex-rival up so he could remove himself from him carefully.  
With a quick movement, Seifer fetched the stained shirt again from stopping a larger mess on their bed from happening, causing Squall to yet again blush beautifully.  
"All good, don't worry about it.", the blond murmured reassuringly for some reason that was beyond him, tossing the shirt aside as it was no longer needed, then spread himself out on the bed, pulling the bedsheet over the both of them.  
He rolled to his side and looked at the younger man who lay beside him, still in the process of catching his breath.   
If he had thought that fucking Squall Leonhart once would cure him of his infatuation, he had been so, so wrong.

Lifting one hand and brushing his fingertips over the sharp jawline he urged Squall to look at him. "Come here.", he hummed, wanting the other close, smiling as the brunet reluctantly followed his offer and rested a slim hand gently against his chest. Throwing one arm over the slender figure, hand firm on his back, he pulled Squall even closer until he could feel his skin against his own, making another content sound as he closed his eyes.  
It had been bad to give in to this wanting, and he knew it would haunt him come tomorrow. But what was even worse was the realization that he would do it again.  
There was no way he could keep himself from Squall anymore now.


	8. Aftermath

* * *

"Isn't it the moment of most profound doubt that gives birth to new certainties?"

\- Vaclav Havel 

* * *

**Galbadia, D-District, one year ago**

  
Engulfed by the constant stinging smell of metal and iron and rust each breath brought a stale taste, fresh air being a rarity in the military facility. Huge ventilation systems refined the air just enough to make it usable, flushing in the desert heat with it. After a while one was able to get used to it, to ignore it even, but not so the headaches it brought. There was a lingering, permanent dark to the interior as well, dim lights dominating the rounded hallways and high ceilings all but helping to push the oppressive feel of the surroundings away, just another way to torture the inmates incarcerated there.

Usually, the guards were switched out every day to avoid them from suffering under the conditions. But not him.  
He had been staying here for the better part of a week now, or so it felt as he couldn't tell night from day, the roaring of the machinery lifting and shifting the prison underneath the earth and up high over the ground the only indication of how much time passed inside. Just now, they had sunk below the surface again.  
Rubbing his forehead with gloved fingers, the quality of the material an unpleasant scratch against his still not fully healed scar-tissue, Seifer was sat on a metal bench in one of the rooms designated to the guards.

His head felt heavy, thoughts incoherent, and meddled with a foggy layer as he tried to make sense of the weeks that had passed since he had left B-Garden. Learning that the headmaster had actually sent three rookie SeeDs out on a mission to kidnap the Galbadian president, something in him had snapped. That much he could recall.  
He also vaguely remembered worry nestled inside his chest, taking root as he found out who was sent to Timber.  
Squall, of all people, should lead the small group of three. Squall, who obeyed orders like a lapdog, never questioning anything because he was so damn _proud_ and not able, or willing, to think outside of the box. Squall, who would end up getting himself _killed_ if they strictly followed the orders of a group of teenagers playing rebels.

Clearer were the memories of him boasting in front of the ravenhaired girl that he would of course be able to establish a connection to Balamb Garden. He was as good as a SeeD come next spring. He would get the headmaster to listen. He saw the potential in the plan the girl had suggested. But in his mind, he would have been the one finally redeeming himself in front of Garden, bringing them a contract with a plan that actually served a _good_ purpose, and he had expected Garden to take the matter into their own hands, issuing a proper mission.  
Once again, a plan of his had misfired.  
Royally.  
And now he was responsible if something happened to Squall. He wouldn't have that.  
Following the brunet to Timber was supposed to right this wrong, to help them out and turn the tide so they could return home safely. Yet it only became another failed attempt of redemption.

His plans always seemed so steadfast, they were _good_ plans, but either fate or Hyne or whatever powers that were seemed to have taken a perverse entertainment in seeing him fail. Just like in Timber. When that blond fistfighter couldn't keep his mouth shut. When he blared out on television, for the whole world to see, that they were from Garden. Just then, all hope to right his wrongs had crumbled right before Seifer's eyes, panic lapping at his mind.  
The world knew. And he was the one holding a gunblade against the Galbadian president's throat. He was the one everyone _saw_. He was the assaulting rebel, at least in their eyes.

Needing to get away from there he had retreated into the backstage area of the TV station, away from the cameras, hoping against hope that instructor Trepe would come up with a witty plan, as she always did. That _Squall_ would have a plan.  
It took him all his willpower not to crumble and falter right then, keeping his grip tight on the president as he stood there, thoughts spinning out of control. He was trapped.   
No matter what he did from here on out, he would either be seized by Galbadian military immediately, or have to run. He could never return back home to Garden, either. Not that he would have been able to stay for much longer anyway, having failed his final chance to become a SeeD at the age of nineteen, effectively stripping him of all privileges and deeming him too old to stay as a student. But he had wanted to at least leave with having done things _right_ for once. End things on good terms.

And while his thoughts were spinning, the president babbling about what he could offer him if he let him go as well as threatening that they would simply blow up Balamb Garden if he didn't, _she_ appeared.  
That was when the silky threats of mist had started to be spun around his mind, layer after layer, tugging in just the right places to make him listen. And listen he did.  
 _She_ offered a solution to his problems.  
"Kome with me, childe.", her voice had cooed in his head, "I know what it is that you want." And he had tried to resist. Some part of him instinctively knew there was something wrong about it all, but she gently hushed those worries away, right along with his panic.   
"These mortals will want to see you dead for what you did. But if you join me, bekome my knight, no harm shall kome to you."  
Becoming a sorceresses knight. Being presented with the opportunity to finally do something of worth, of greatness, and simultaneously be pardoned for his past mistakes, away from judging eyes and distrusting words, the mere thought made him feel safe.  
"We will play their games, childe. Let them pronounce you dead. And you will rise again, as my knight, glorified and hailed by all people. No longer a boy, but a man."

Drained from the effort to try and make sense of his change of mind that day, Seifer now closed his eyes, folding his hands in his lap, elbows leaning on his knees as he bent over, a deep sigh winding out of his throat.  
He didn't really have a choice back then. This had been his only way out. And Squall did not have a plan. He would have let him die. He didn't even _try_ to find him as he himself did for the brunet. And yet his heart kept on calling out to the young SeeD, yearning for all that was lost since that dreadful day. Longing for simpler times when he was so sure of what he was doing and didn't have these gaps in his recent memory.  
Junctioning Guardian Forces made him accustomed to a certain degree of memory loss, especially when it came to his past as a kid, but it had never been so intrusive, so acute. 

Opening his eyes, lifting his gaze, he found the flicker of screens on the other side of the room, surveillance cameras observing every move inside the D-District prison. He knew which of the glowing rectangles he had to look at to find the lean figure dressed in black leather curled up on an iron bunk. He had been lying there ever since they brought him here a few days ago, straight out of Deling after he fell from that parade float, struck by an enormous icicle.  
Seifer had been numb to what happened that night, his mind in a haze and uncomfortably blank. He could vaguely remember fighting Squall and his comrades, and he remembered a flaring anger inside of him that wasn't entirely his own.  
But it was justified. Yes, it had to be.  
Looking at him now, knowing she would keep her word about healing the SeeD enough to make him survive the otherwise surely fatal wound, a darkness curled inside of him, tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"I know you want the boy." _she_ whispered in his head, her choice of words by now nothing to give him a pause anymore. To her, everyone seemed to be a child. Everyone but him.  
And oh, he had wanted Squall for _so long_.  
"See how I keep my promises? All your dreams kome true if you are at my side. And now I brought you this present."  
He could feel the coiling in his insides, the darkness lapping at his mind, dark desires that had slumbered for years awakened at her lulling words. Indeed, there he lay, all he had ever wanted, and all he had ever learned to hate.  
"I shall give him to you, under one kondition. I want to know... what SeeDs _are_. Make the boy talk... and he shall be yours."

Jade-green depths found themselves unable to look away, watching the distorted image of the brunet through the screen as he stirred ever so slightly, the pain by now subsided, no fever dreams to disturb the slumber _she_ had cast on him. He was still so beautiful like that image he had treasured in the depths of his heart, a young cadet sitting under an oak tree, a gentle smile on his usually so cold and empty features.  
"Whatever it takes.", he heard his voice oblige, dark temptations sifting further into his mind, mouth dry and threads of mist and haze clouding his judgment.  
He saw. He wanted. And he would _take_.

**Rachdale, Seifer's Apartment, dawn**

  
While unrelenting rain and stormy gushes of wind had died down overnight, there was still a grey layer covering the sky, drawing out the crack of dawn and first light longer than usual. There were patches in the layer of thick clouds that promised to break open eventually, speaking of at least a glimpse of sunlight during the day ahead. Yet, it wasn't cold when he started into awareness, feeling an almost overwhelming, comforting warmth pressed against his body. His arms were wrapped around that warmth, holding onto it tight as if afraid to lose it again.  
His sleep had been dreamless, both mind and body fully relaxed and, for the first time in a very long while, truly at peace.

Blinking through the haze of sleep, Seifer felt silky brown hair tucked under his chin, soft breaths brushing the skin of his neck. One arm was still slung over the lithe figure next to him, hand resting in the small of the other one's back. Had they moved at all?  
He remembered now, not unpleasantly, what had transpired the night before and a smile tugged at his lips, almost content.  
But the moment faded away too soon, realization settling into the pit of his stomach with nausea as he started to grasp the extend of what he had done. Stiffening under the recurring wave of guilt, he had to close his eyes and muster all his resolve to not jerk away violently from the peacefully sleeping brunet in his arms.  
All his good intentions had been thrown out the window, all his determination to keep his distance shattered in the mere presence of Squall, who still, after all this time and everything that had happened, had this pull on him like he'd cast a continuous demi-spell the blond had no means to run from.

_"Stay? I don't want to be alone."_

Yes, it had been Squall who said that and it had been him who initiated a kiss then, but to hell, there had been a significant amount of alcohol in his system on top of a panic attack he'd just warded off. Seifer had taken advantage of that, once again only feeding his own ego.  
Gritting his teeth, he carefully removed his arm from the other one, moving slowly and deliberately to not stir the man in his sleep as he slipped out of the bed and grabbed random items of clothing on his way out of the bedroom.   
Throwing the clothing onto the couch without much care for tidiness, he then stepped into the bathroom, closing the door behind him gently before leaning on the sink heavily, his head hanging, breath painful in his chest.  
What the fuck had he done?  
Knuckles white and nails pressing into his skin painfully he inhaled with a sharp gasp, forcing air into his lungs that wouldn't otherwise fill them properly right now. What was so fucking _wrong_ with him that he could never, no matter how hard he tried and how steeled his resolve seemed to be, do something _right_?

"Fuck!" he spat out, the constricting pain in his chest welling up even more for a moment as he had to restrain his fist from slamming into the mirror when he looked up and stared at his pale face, the scar on his brow, the same man he had been months before. Selfish, rash, all unchecked temper, and no way to redeem himself, no matter how desperately he tried.  
It was almost laughable. Once Squall could remember everything that had happened, he would only hate him all the more for what he had done to him now. There was no absolution for him in this life, and no way this would end up working out. As sweet as the illusion might have been that he would be allowed to have this, to be able to touch Squall like this without any retribution, all of it was, at best, naive.

Breathing in steady and long, he set his shoulders. Resolve in his mind, he turned to the shower, stripped his clothes and set the water as scalding hot as he dared, just standing there for minutes on end, letting it wash away his futile train of thought.  
He forbade himself to dwell on this further, not being able to change the past anyway and determined to not repeat this mistake. It would be an exercise in mental strength to not get into Squall's private space again because it just felt so good, but in the end, it wasn't worth the emotional fallout he had to face.  
That much decided, he lathered himself up in shower gel, forcing his thoughts away from memories of warm skin beneath his fingertips, of soft moans and a shivering body pressed close to his own.  
Maybe not enough to not indulge himself in it one last time, stroking himself to completion under the shower.   
It could hardly get worse from this anyways.

After toweling himself dry and making a point of letting his hair fall into his face again, covering the thin scar between his eyes, he started getting dressed in the living room, listening if he could hear movement from the bedroom. But nothing came, Squall still out cold apparently.  
At least Seifer had something to occupy his thoughts with and the outlook to let out all his frustration today, the weather playing along would allow them to go through with their plan of giving Hyperion a taste of battle.  
Tying up his boots still caked with dirt in the hallway and shrugging his thankfully dried jacket over his shoulders, he grabbed his keys and headed out.  
It was a high gamble to visit Alkos in his workshop on a Sunday for the man usually kicked everyone out who dared disturb him on his day off - which he tended to spend in the forge anyway to follow up with private projects. But Seifer had run some errands for metals and other materials a while back and he hoped the old man would remember as much to do him a favor.

The air outside of the apartment was cool, yet far from unpleasant. Hands buried in the pockets of his jacket, Seifer descended the stairs on the side of the building leading into the small courtyard where he could see the first remnants of the storm. Branches had snapped from the tree standing there, leafs and splinters of wood spread around the ground with them.  
When he exited through the small gate, he could see people on the roof of a building in the far distance seemingly repairing the damage that had been done there. One could only hope that the fallout of the storm, in general, would turn out to be mild.   
Seifer made his way down the cobblestone path to the market place that lay empty before him, it being still rather early for anyone to be about unless they had to tend to their houses. He passed the Loneman's Harbor on his way to the town outskirts, his eyes resting for a moment on the building that, days before, had led to such an unexpected turn of events for him.

He could still hardly believe that it was all true, that it really happened.  
The chance for him to be found by anyone out here in the middle of nowhere were so small, and only Fujin and Raijin knew where he exactly was. And then, one night, he stared into the face of his lifetime-rival, lost and stranded, without anything to his name. Without even his name.  
The whole situation could have almost been romantic, were it not for all that had happened since both of them left B-Garden that summer day.  
Shaking his head, denying himself to dwell on these thoughts, he strode on and soon reached a set of small buildings with haphazard signs over their doorways and on the sides of them.  
Knowing he wouldn't be lucky to try the front door, Seifer instead ducked into the nearby alley and followed the small, crooked path around the building, maneuvering past garbage bins and other obstacles until the workshop's yard came into sight. Even before it did, the incessant metallic sound of a hammer was audible, sure enough, the bane of Alkos' neighbors in these early hours.

"Oi, old man!" Seifer yelled when he reached the gate, not intruding the man's space yet. It would be safer to see if he was allowed first, given the hot temper of the former resident of the Bika Snowfields.  
Alkos was in fact old, only small tufts of white hair on the side of his otherwise bald and tattooed head, his skin leathery and dark, eyes a piercing white-blue. The goatee on his chin contrasted the hair on his head, big and bushy and braided intricately, decorated with silver adornments.  
His body, however, seemed both sinewy and muscular, proof of the many years the man had spent in his trade of work. Alkos' snowy eyes looked up when he heard Seifer call out, and his bushy brows furrowed at the disturbance. Slowly straightening up, hands now on his hips, the hammer still in one, he smirked in a way that competed for the blond's famous trade.  
"Well, if it isn't blondie.", Alkos croaked, chuckling when he saw Seifer grimace at the nickname. "What can I do you for?"  
Seemingly allowed to enter, the tall young man pushed open the gate before him and approached the other, reaching out so they could clasp their hands in greeting.  
"Sorry to disturb you on your day off, Alkos.", Seifer started, earning himself a snort and a throwaway motion from the older man who seemed to be in a surprisingly good mood.

"You're not the first. Storm has people bustling all over to get materials, so I've been up since sunrise helping out.", Alkos explained, nodding towards a couple of big, wooden boxes standing on the side of the building, filled with metal scraps and parts that could be used for repairs. "Will probably need you one of these days to refill my stock, too."  
Seifer nodded, having expected as much. There weren't too many fighters in Rachdale so most of the time it fell to him to venture out and acquire whatever it was the people needed.  
"Will do. Say, I was wondering", the blond trailed off to look around, hoping to find a trace of a gunblade somewhere around but finding none, "you don't by any chance have a gunblade on your hands?"

The surprise in Alkos' face was palpable and the old man set aside his hammer, scratching the top of his bald head while he took the younger man in for a moment, then he frowned, thoughtful.  
"Somehow you always did strike me for a blade-wielding type, you know that?", the old man mused as he turned to slowly shuffle over to the back door, motioning Seifer to follow him. The younger man had only stiffened slightly, having been unaware that people might think that way about him. Was it so obvious?  
They entered the storage room from the backyard, Alkos heading across the room to open a door as he started rummaging through what seemed to be an accumulation of weapons, tools, and other things he didn't need for his daily business.  
Already expecting the old man to come up empty-handed, Seifer crossed his arms over his chest as he looked around the room, taking in all the items stored here, most of which were started projects that yet needed to be finished.  
"There she is!", Alkos exclaimed after a little while longer and came back out of the chamber, cobwebs in his tufts of hair and, indeed, a gunblade in hand. He held it out for the blond to take before dusting off his clothes and closing up the door again.  
Seifer took the weapon with both hands, looking it over carefully.  
"A Shear Trigger...", the tall blond hummed, brushing over the dusty handle with a thumb.

Alkos nodded approvingly, already rummaging about again, procuring a halfway clean piece of cloth and some ointment. "Had her since the war, figured someone might need it. Took her with me because, you know, monsters and Hyne knows what.", the old man mumbled, approaching him and nodding to a workbench that was free so the gunblade could be placed on it.  
"Should be good to go, I'll fix her up for you."  
Seifer noticed approvingly as he put down the blade, that the old man didn't even care to ask what he needed the weapon for or how he could tell the type of it.   
Even after almost one year of living here, the unobtrusive attitude of Rachdale residents was something he had still get to used to.   
Alkos went about the weapon purposefully, cleaning most of the dust and dirt off it with deliberate movements, handling the Shear Trigger in such a way it betrayed his knowledge of it. Maybe after all people _did_ have a reason to not pry.

After about half an hour later, he was finished and handed the now shiny and clean blade to Seifer, wiping his hands absentmindedly on the now rather dirty cloth.  
"If you need bullets for that one, I will have to disappoint you though." Alkos said, shaking his head.  
"No need, this will do fine.", the tall blond responded, holding the gunblade carefully as to not knock something over in the room on accident.  
"What do I owe you, old man?"  
"Psh, just get me new material when I call you next time and we're good." Alkos grinned with crooked teeth, patting Seifer on the shoulder as they headed back outside. 

**Rachdale, Seifer's Apartment, morning**

Placing the soreness of muscles and limbs after slowly coming to proved difficult. In his mind, there was also something missing beside him that used to be there the night before, but he couldn't immediately tell what it was.   
He shivered, noticing the lack of clothes on his body as he carefully stretched his legs and felt the soreness in his upper thighs, along with a most curious strain someplace he really didn't expect to feel any pain whatsoever. That was when memories of the night before hit him like a sledgehammer.  
Groaning, both from the feel of his body and the shame it brought with it, Squall buried his face in the pillow, trying long moments to will all that had happened away.  
Whatever had gotten into him?  
The incessant and obtrusive ache behind his eyes soon told him what did. Had he really downed three glasses of whiskey, full to the brim, in quick succession the other night? No wonder his senses had left him.

With a listless move, he brushed his hair out of his face as he rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling. Slowly, he lifted his hands, spreading his fingers, then tracing the digits of his right over the marred skin on his left wrist, brow furrowed.  
It had seemed like Seifer knew how he had gotten these scars. Although he had not paused again when he touches his ankles, or maybe he hadn't noticed the blistered skin there, but there had been some kind of recognition in his eyes last night.  
Lips pressed thin, Squall set up, once more internally cursing the blockade in his brain that kept him from remembering.

The move of his body into an upright position had him breathe in sharply as he once more noticed a slight sting of pain, a stark reminder of how he had acted the night before. Now _that_ was something he would be glad to not remember, loathe to think he had enjoyed it. A lot.  
Slipping out of the bed he paused, looking down on a very uncleanly looking shirt that he wouldn't be able to use anymore. Standing in the chill room, chewing on his lower lip, he then unceremoniously opened the wardrobe and pulled out the first t-shirt he could find, black and way too large for him but it would suffice. Snatching his boxers from where they had landed and taking a mental note that he would need to procure some new clothing soon, he padded out of the bedroom, ears trained on any sound that might come from another part of the flat.  
But it seemed to be abandoned.

Not even wanting to go down the road of what it might mean if someone fled the entire building after one had been that intimate, he steered his steps into the bathroom, closing the door behind him and placing the clothes on the sink.  
His gaze found his reflection in the mirror, giving him pause.  
There were bruises blooming all over his neck, bitemarks too. Not able to stop it, heat flushed his cheeks and he closed his eyes, breathing deeply. It couldn't be changed now, there was no point in regretting it.  
With that in mind, Squall stepped inside the shower and turned the water on, letting the warmth engulf him and wash away all other remnants of the night.  
At least the storm had passed, so he would not be stuck in here any longer. It almost seemed like he wasn't able to think straight, the more time he spent with the blond.   
And he had more important things to do than roll around on a mattress with the taller man.

A little while later Squall stepped out of the bathroom, brown strands falling into his face, still wet and slightly clinging to his skin, as he heard a scratching sound. Frowning, he looked around, trying to make out the source of it, finding none.  
Only when he quietly and carefully followed the noise he heard a little meowing sound from the kitchen window.  
Sure enough, a black cat sat on the window still, pawing at the frame, seemingly wanting inside. Squall walked over and lifted a brow, watching the animal rub it's small jaw at the frame while watching him as if it wanted to coax him into opening up. While he still pondered if he should let the cat in, for he didn't know if Seifer owned it, Squall could hear the apartment door opening and closing as his host returned.

Seifer toed off his boots and shrugged off his jacket, the Shear Trigger in hand stepping into his home, gaze wandering. Squall couldn't still be asleep, could he? A small voice in the back of his head started to puff up at the thought of him having been able to tire the Lion of Balamb out so much he slept almost until noon.  
But when he passed the door to the kitchen on his way to set the gunblade aside, he spotted the other man standing there.  
For a moment, Seifer froze when he saw the brunet.  
A shirt much too big hang from his slender frame, drooping from one pale shoulder and reaching just over his behind, giving him way too much of a view on those lean, trained legs. In general, the whole display was just too much for him, the wet strands of untamed hair, the bruises from last night on his neck, the strange intimacy of the entire look. As much as he hadn't wanted it to happen, the display sent blood straight to his groin. Being that occupied with all that, it took him almost a minute to realize what Squall was looking at - a cat on the other side of the window.  
He swallowed in hopes of banning all want from his voice, gripping the gunblade tighter as he rapped his fingers on the door frame to announce himself since Squall hadn't turned around to face him yet.  
"Ah, that's the neighbor's cat, Jesper. Let him in, he wants some milk." he explained, turning around to head over were Hyperion's case leaned against the wall, placing the Shear Trigger next to it.

Squall had heard the steps close to the kitchen door and was acutely aware of the silence that lingered between them, but he didn't dare turn to the blond for he could already feel the burning heat in his cheeks again. While he had successfully convinced himself that what happened last night had been nothing special to Seifer apparently, he still felt ashamed of how he had acted and what he let happen.   
Only when he heard the other man's voice did he stir, glancing over his shoulder to see the blond retreat into the living room.   
He then followed to open the window and let the cat in, which meowed again in a tone that almost seemed accusing. The feline hopped on the counter, stepping gracefully over to where the fridge stood and jumped on the floor, sitting down with expectant, green eyes piercing the brunet.

Blinking, Squall watched the cat a moment, then stepped closer to open the fridge and procured the package of milk inside.   
"Do you have a bow-", he started, his words cut off when he felt himself bumping with his shoulder into the taller frame of the blond.  
The immediate proximation of the other man who now placed a hand on his bare shoulder to reach up and open a cabinet, retrieving a small bowl from it, was enough to have Squall tense up again, a hot flush running through his entire body.

He just couldn't keep his hands to himself. That soft, milkwhite skin of the brunet's shoulder had just looked too inviting not to touch, and now Seifer found himself much too close again, not minding the bump of the smaller man into him as he had not heard him approach. Cool skin under his fingertips lured him to let his hand rest just a little bit longer than was necessary before he pulled away to put the bowl on the floor in front of Jesper. The cat started purring violently in expectation of its treat.  
Saving himself from the enticing sight of the brunet and his wandering eyes as well as his hands which just wouldn't obey him otherwise, Seifer turned to the coffee machine and started setting it up.  
Silence settled between them as he could hear Squall lean down and pour the cat some milk, storing the package back in the fridge after and, as the blond briefly looked over his shoulder to look at the other man, leaning with his back against it.  
"Have you been up long?", he heard himself ask, mentally slapping himself for the weak try at communicating after last night.  
He could see Squall shrug, arms crossed over his chest, the perfect image of the ice-prince again betraying nothing of the myriad of emotions that had crossed those stoic features mere hours ago.

Squall had managed to calm himself down once there was enough distance between them again and, from how the tall blond acted, it seemed to have been something casual between them anyway? Not that he knew how these things were handled, he had never had a life normal enough to, quite literally, 'fuck around'.  
It felt strange to have a normal conversation now, but then again he wasn't really apt in small talk whatsoever, to begin with.  
"I got us another gunblade, in case you're still up for some sparring?", came the voice of the blond again, pulling him out of his mind's turnings.  
Squall nodded, humming approval, his gaze now resting on the feline next to him lapping at the milk contently.  
"I'll need new clothes soon.", the brunet murmured absentmindedly, hating the fact he had to ask for help yet again and frowning because of it. He still had to talk to that redhaired lady and discuss how he could work off his debt, and somehow he would need to find some clothes for himself, without any Gil on his hands.

Seifer felt an old annoyance creep up his neck at the indifference the brunet displayed. It was the exact same attitude he remembered from their time in Garden, when Squall refused to acknowledge Seifer's grandeur and his formidable plans, most of the time ignoring him to the point the blond just snapped.  
Only when he heard the quiet words did he realize that the other man's mind must be occupied with entirely different worries than Seifer was with his libido.  
Of course. He had been tempted to disregard the situation Squall was in to a point he completely forgot about it since the night before.  
Squall had so much on his plate right now, having sex had probably just been a good way to keep his mind off things for at least a little while.  
"I think I might have something here that fits you.", he mused, watching the coffee dribble into the pot, chastising himself for being so ignorant.  
Pushing himself off the counter, he gestured the brunet to follow him as he steered his steps into the bedroom, eyes brushing over the bed a second too long. 

Squall followed the other one, feeling a weird tingling feeling in the back of his head as they were both back in the bedroom, together. He crossed his arms again, watching as the tall blond started rummaging inside his wardrobe, looking for something as it seemed.  
The glance of steelblue eyes traveled rather unconsciously over the room, taking in the mess they had created: Clothes discarded everywhere, a shirt full of their fluids on the floor, another shirt hanging over a lampshade in the corner, and the inevitable bottle of lube poking out from under one of the cushions.  
Forcing his eyes away, he turned to Seifer again, who by now had gathered a pair of black leather pants and a white t-shirt in one arm, filing through the hangers now.  
He wasn't quite sure if he really wanted any of the tall blond's clothes, given that they tended to hang from him like burlap sacks, but he was willing to be humored.

What the brunet didn't know was that Seifer had procured the items he was now pulling out of his closet on a whim of both nostalgia and perverted fantasies. Not that the other ever had to know about that.  
And since he had made Daz wear the assemble, he was rather sure the clothes would fit Squall, maybe even better than the other man. Seifer wanted to be practical about the situation, knowing that Squall definitely needed another set of clothes, but there was also this dark coiling part inside of him which seemed to have awakened since the night before, nagging at his mind and pestering him with thoughts better left untouched. That part of him really wanted to see the brunet clad in leather again.  
Finally, he turned to the waiting smaller man and handed him the leather pants, the shirt as well as a black leather jacket. The latter didn't really look like the one Squall had owned, but it was close enough in his opinion.  
"You can keep them." he said, not offering any further explanation about the items as he ran a hand through his hair, the movement briefly exposing the scar on his forehead.  
"Better get dressed so we can head out? I'll fill some coffee into a thermos so we can take it with us." And with that, he left the brunet to his own devices.

**Centra, Lolesterin Plains, early noon**

  
As expected, the sky had broken up, letting through faint rays of the sun that painted golden shimmering patches onto the scenery. Their way had led them past the outskirts of town and up a small path, winding all the way to the mountains in the distance.   
Seifer carried the Shear Trigger, leaving Hyperion's case in Squall's care, as they walked in silence and made for the fields a few miles behind the town. There wasn't much to be seen there, only grassy fields and some shrubbery, occasionally disturbed by areas of earth and stone. The blond had often pondered of coming here to train, to not get out of practice, but he hadn't brought it over himself to wield Hyperion.  
Holding a gunblade in his hand that he had no attachment to seemed to be the safer bet, and he could already feel the anticipation rise inside of him again.  
He had impressed upon the brunet to remember not calling him by his name, not explaining much more than that everybody here only knew him as Zephyr, which had, in turn, earned him a famous frown and a pinch to the other's nose bridge, but in the end Squall had agreed. Now they pressed onward into the fields, leaving the path behind them and making their way far enough into the grassy land that even if someone happened to come along, they would be out of earshot.

"This should do.", Seifer proclaimed finally, placing the thermos on the ground for later use as he turned to look at the brunet.  
Loathe to admit, he looked hot in the assemble he had given him.  
The black leather pants hugged the lean frame perfectly, almost exactly like he remembered, as well as the white shirt that nothing short of complimented the muscles hidden beneath. The leather jacket, although not quite cut as short and without the white fur collar, was enough to bring back memories and he all but shook his head when he saw the other man step out of the bedroom before.  
Seifer watched as Squall silently knelt down to place the case on the ground now, looking up at the tall blond with a raised brow. "You really don't want to use your own gunblade?" he requested, one pale hand resting on the lid.  
The taller man shook his head curtly and decidedly, taking a few steps away to swing the Shear Trigger, testing its balance and weight. It was heavier than Hyperion and it would be a proper struggle to wield it one-handed, but his pride forbade him to do it any different. He could still best Leonhart, even with a disadvantage like that.

Squall shrugged at the response, flicking the snaps open and pushing the lid of the black leather case up, watching as the mild gleam of the sun reflected in the dark iron of the weapon resting inside, waiting.  
Just like the day before he carefully lifted it out of its mold, again holding the lightweight gunblade with both his hands, now able to take a couple of swings with it just like his opponent did right now with his weapon.  
It felt off in a way he could not place, but he would make do.  
Probing the gunblade as he walked, taking a few steps away from the tall blond on his own, he was able to admire how good the handle lay in his grip, even when he took her in one hand. Turning, he saw Seifer test out the Shear Trigger before taking his stance; body angled slightly to the side, the knee of his front leg slightly bent to keep him on his toes if needed, his right arm stretched out and the gunblade pointed in Squall's direction. Even over the distance between him, he could feel the tension rise, half imagining a glistening in the other's jade-green eyes that spoke of determination.  
Squall set his shoulders, angling his body just a little, holding Hyperion in his right, not raising his arm as high but rather keeping it hovering close to his hip, feet planted into the ground.

There was no signal, no word given, only the wind brushing their hair slightly, and a particularly loud crash of waves in the distance that was enough for both of them to move. Almost at the same time as Seifer, Squall pressed his whole body's weight from the ground, starting into a sprint, the gunblade quickly turning in his grip so the blade itself trailed behind him.  
Seifer had swung the Shear Trigger, crossing his main hand and arm over his body, ready to strike once he was close enough. They moved at incredible speed, their bodies still full of muscle memory and habit, approaching the opponent with grit teeth and a smirk on Seifer's side.  
Once close enough, the tall blond swung his arm, forcing Squall to duck to the right as he brought Hyperion up to parry the strike, steel clashing loudly over the field. With a deft step, the brunet used the momentum to both force his arm upward, effectively taking the other's with him, and at the same time twisted around to come up behind Seifer.

The blond smirked, twisting around himself and unleashing another hit that the smaller man was barely able to parry this time, his step unbalanced as he tried to wield Hyperion with one hand. The next clash of blades rang through the air, but it had Seifer frowning, bringing his whole body against the other, forcing him a couple of steps back which caused Squall to fall over.  
Grimacing, the blond shook his head, lowering his weapon and stepping up to the other man, holding out a hand to help him up.  
"Same shit as always, your stance sucks." Seifer declared as he gripped the hand that had taken his, pulling Squall to his feet again.  
Swiftly, the tall blond sank the Shear Trigger's blade into the ground, motioning his opponent to come closer.  
"It feels wrong." Squall murmured, a deep frown on his face that spoke of his frustration with himself. Even though he couldn't remember, part of him knew how to wield a gunblade, he could feel it. And he also felt that whatever he was doing here was not how he used to do it. Still, all he got was a snort as a reply as Seifer tapped his biceps, motioning him to raise his arm. As he did, the taller man stepped behind him, placing his left under Squall's arm to raise it further and angle it, then both hands grabbed his hips to position the brunet's body much in the same way he had seen the other man take his stance before.

Seifer's lips were pressed thin as he stood close enough behind the smaller man to breathe in his scent, him moving the other's body around reminding him of a whole other, much more compromising situation. He swallowed hard against the dryness in his mouth, one hand now placed on the brunet's left shoulder, applying firm pressure.  
"Your main arm has to be an extension to your weapon.", he explained lowly, trying to ignore that nagging, coiling feeling in his stomach as he spoke.  
"Shoulders set, your back supporting the stance. And...", the tip of his boot lightly kicked against one of the younger man's heels, "...be light on your feet. You need to be swift, not standing there like an unyielding rock."  
"Right.", he could hear Squall speak softly, noticing how he tried to apply the instructions giving to him all the while still seeming uncomfortable with it.  
"You'll be quicker casting spells when your other hand is free.", the blond continued, now angling Squall's left arm so he would only have to do one quick forward move if he was to cast - which they both knew he couldn't right now.  
"Also," Seifer grinned now, "it's always good to have one hand free to fight dirty and punch your opponent in the face if needed."

At this, Squall turned around with an incredulous look on his face, as if the mere notion of fighting dirty had personally insulted him.  
"Oh, don't give me that look, Leonhart.", Seifer chuckled, head shaking, as he brought distance between them again. Once he stood far enough, he picked up his fighting stance anew, motioning Squall with his free hand to do the same.  
Frowning, Squall did as commanded, trying to find that lightness on his feet the other man had spoken about. Still trying to adjust because everything about this just felt off, he noticed almost too late how the tall blond was already charging at him, a wild grin on his face.  
Muttering a curse, Squall tried copying the other one's moves, crossing the weapon swiftly over his opposite shoulder to swing it at the tall blond, his body tensing as he managed to get some force behind his strike as their blades shattered against each other once more. "Not good enough!", the blond bellowed, lips still curled up, his body once again pressing with force against the brunets.  
This time, Squall's left shot forward, grasping Hyperion's handle too, mobilizing both his arms force to press against his opponent, in turn, finding that Seifer didn't seem to be able to keep holding the heavier gunblade in this clashed position much longer by just holding it with one hand. Spurred on by the opportunity at hand, Squall planted his feet into the ground forcefully, bringing all his weight against the other and finally pushing him over.

"What the fuck, Squall?!", Seifer bit out as he landed on the ground, the Shear Trigger falling to his side next to him.  
But the brunet was already at it with his frowning again, looking Hyperion over critically before stepping over to be the one now helping his opponent back up to his feet by offering him a hand. "Honestly,", Squall hummed thoughtfully, before he pressed Hyperion into Seifer's hand unceremoniously, only to lean down and grab the Shear Trigger. "I can't wield that thing, let's switch."  
Seifer had no chance to object holding the gunblade and now found his fingers wrapped around her handle, a feeling much too familiar and, to his surprise, exceptionally comfortable.  
Instead of weighing him down, Hyperion was light and swift in his hand, a feeling of finally being complete again surging through his body, though tinted with guilt and shame. Was he even allowed to wield her again after all that had happened? His gaze glued to the dark steel thoughtfully, he almost missed the little smile that played around Squall's lips as he stood there, Shear Trigger in both his hands, automatically having taken his usual battle stance without even thinking about it.   
All of this felt so familiar, it caused a soft sting in Seifer's chest. Had he not seen something quite similar to this in their past, when Squall brought Revolver to the training center for the first time?  
"Guess you're right...", the blond said lowly, still uncomfortable with the thought of allowing himself to hold Hyperion. He hadn't been able to abandon her, but just the same he had not been able to face her. An appreciative hum came from the brunet next to him who seemed to be much more in tune with the heavier gunblade type, as he had always been.

Nodding curtly, Squall looked up from examining the Shear Trigger and met jade-green depths that seemed to hide an air of concern, just enough to make the brunet lift fine, dark brows.  
"You don't seem too happy to have your own gunblade back." he observed, mild confusion hidden in his voice. Squall had noticed that there had been a lot of reluctance from the tall blond to even get close to his weapon, and there surely was a reason behind it, but he couldn't figure out what it was. There was a pause after his indirect question and he was ready to forgo it by the point his sparring partner spoke up.  
"It's complicated.", he set to speak, words he had used a few days before when he had talked about how the both of them knew each other. "I wasn't exactly one of the good guys in the war and... Hyperion was with me when I did, well... a shit ton of unspeakable things."

Finally kind of admitting to being a war criminal, Seifer avoided the gaze of staleblue eyes fixed on him, looking out to the sea in the distance instead, where the roofs of Rachdale were illuminated by the day's sunlight.  
His jaw worked, him being unsure if that was answer enough or if he should finally tell the other man everything, including what he had done to him when he felt a light touch on his arm. Looking down in surprise, he found Squall standing close, one hand gently placed on his upper arm, the look on his face determined yet soft compared to what he had looked like in the past when he had always practically stared him down.  
"Sorry, I shouldn't have asked.", the brunet said, positively abashed to have directed such a personal question to the other man. It was almost laughable that Squall apologized to him instead of the other way around, causing Seifer to scoff.  
"You're the last person who has to apologize to me."  
At that, Squall frowned again slightly, shaking his head as his hand fell to his side again, his look now resting on the ocean in the distance, too. "Look,", he set to speak, hand on his hip in that determined, stubborn way Seifer knew too well. "I don't remember anything. And even if I did... it's all in the past. And we can't change that. So... for what it's worth, just assume I don't care what you did."

A barking laugh made the brunet turn around again, seeing Seifer bend over, seemingly very amused at his choice of words. And indeed, what the other had said was just so _Squall_ , it was almost comical. At the same time though, those ironic words didn't fail to hit a sore spot in the blond's chest, making for a mixture of amusement riddled with pain.  
Straightening back up Seifer shook his head, a smile quirking his lips as he shoved the other man's shoulder to make him back off to their starting position again. "You're so full of shit Leonhart.", he scoffed, turning around to bring some distance between them once more, taking his stance now way more comfortable with Hyperion in his grip.

The following round dragged on significantly longer, both men right in their element and equipped with gunblades fit for their fighting style. There was a relentless clashing of iron, sending sparks from the sheer force of their hits, their movements still a bit rusty but soon smoothing as they spun and collided, making it almost look like a dance.  
A sheen of sweat on their brows, breath labored, the day dragged on and the sun wandered over the horizon, and still, none of them had lost any vigor, their fight as balanced as it had been back in Garden. Only when their gunblades clashed for the umpteenth time, wedging, their faces close and full of determination to win, another wild grin split the blond's face as he suddenly dropped his body, steadying his free hand on the hard ground to bring his right leg forward with force, connecting it with Squall's ankles and hooking his foot behind his heel, effectively tripping him so the smaller man crashed on his back from the unexpected assault.  
Grunting from the impact that blew all air out of his lungs, Squall coughed as his grip around the Shear Trigger slipped and the blade skidded aside, the brunet finding the tall blond looming over him, the tip of Hyperion pointed at his neck.

"Told you one hand should be free, just in case.", the older one sneered, cocking one brow with a grin. Snorting at that, Squall struggled to sit up, brushing his hair out of his eyes with a swift motion, breathing heavily.  
"At least I got you scared enough to loose you had to resort to fighting dirty." he retorted, shooting an annoyed glance at the blond who still kept the blade pointed at him so it brushed the skin of his neck as he sat up.  
Chuckling at that, Seifer placed the tip of Hyperion carefully under Squall's chin to raise it a little more, displaying the bruises of the night before.  
"I'm scared of nothing, Leonhart." he simply replied, enjoying the display in front of him maybe a little too much. Especially combined with that stubborn look in stormy eyes. With a swift motion, Hyperion was rammed into the ground next to Squall and with one hand still on its handle, Seifer kneeled down before the brunet and between his legs, his most arrogant expression in place despite it having been a friendly match as he stared right back at his former rival.

Squall rubbed the bottom of his chin lightly as the blade was finally removed, only to blink in confusion the moment he saw the blond so close before him, staring him down as if he was expecting something.  
"Say it.", Seifer demanded, still sneering.   
A groan wound it's way out of the brunet's throat and he rolled his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand. "I sure as hell won't." he muttered, making to stand up when a hand firmly pressed against his chest, denying him to move as he wished.  
"Oh, you will.", the blond grinned, not planning to let this opportunity slide. He could feel the fast pace of the smaller man's heart under his hand, the heat emanating from his body, and the reproachful scowl on Squall's face made him chuckle.  
"Forget it.", the younger one retorted, grabbing Seifer's wrist to remove his hand only to find the other hand of the blond now burying in his collar, forcing him back onto the ground while the other leaned over him. The stare of emerald eyes would have been unsettling if it wasn't for the slight curl of lips who seemed to be very amused by his victory.  
"Cut the crap, Seifer, I won't say it!", Squall snapped, squirming under the taller man's grip and using his free hand to push against his chest to get him off of him.   
But what he excelled in speed during the battle, Seifer made up with strength, so it was not much struggle to free his wrist from the smaller man's grasp and instead wrap his fingers around the other's throat, not to strangle him but firm enough to end his struggling against him. "Mind the name.", the blond almost whispered, a reminder that they were no longer in his apartment, although there was no one around who could have heard them.

Eyes locked as they both didn't stir for a moment, there was this pull again, the inevitable feeling of never being close enough to the smaller frame of the brunet, of having to invade his private space as much as possible. And before he could even think about letting their bickering go in favor for some distance, Seifer had already leaned down, smoothing his lips against Squall's, who all but sighed at the touch.  
Caught up in the moment and the feeling, time seemed to stop once more, the soft touch soon growing hungry, his tongue demanding access and being granted so, slipping inside and teasing the younger man's tongue. Seifer could feel the fingers splayed over his chest curl into the cloth of his shirt as Squall leaned in closer, eagerly requiting the kiss, tongue gliding along his own, caught in a fight of a different kind.  
Somehow his hand must have slipped under the white shirt, for the blond could feel the still hot skin under his digits, trailing playfully over scars and muscles, feeling the slight shiver and goosebumps rising under his touch. Every now and then, he tensed the grip of his fingers around the brunet's throat, pleasantly surprised it made the other man sigh even more into their kiss, causing it to deepen.  
Just when his hand wandered down again, planning to explore the reactions of Squall's body in his nether regions, an obtrusive ring disturbed the silence, making the blond groan into the kiss with annoyance.

Not breaking the kiss right away but slowing it until their lips longingly nibbed at each other, Seifer fumbled for his phone in his jacket, finding it and taking the call without taking his eyes off of the pretty flush on Squall's face.

  
"Get yourselves a room." he heard Daznea's voice on the other end of the line as soon as he picked up.  
Paling ever so slightly, Seifer stiffened, sitting upright again and glancing around. A chuckle came from the other end.  
"Behind you."  
And sure enough, when he turned around, he saw the old pickup, it's back full with game and other materials, and a very familiar brunet behind the wheel, the motor still running and the vehicle had stopped on the path they had taken to come here.  
With a lazy wave of his hand, Daz grinned at him, hanging up.


End file.
